


With or Without You

by Jay_Lark (Robin_Knight)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blindness, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mpreg, Physical Disability, Pregnant Gladio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-07 08:48:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11055489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Knight/pseuds/Jay_Lark
Summary: Prompto was relieved. The war was over.There were many deaths, but their king stood tall and their country prevailed.The greatest surprise - from the remnants of the chaos - was the revelation of Gladio and Noctis. No one had expected them to find romance, especially with the lingering memories of those dead, but something good had come from the bad. It was enough to give hope even to the hopeless. There was only one problem:An unexpected pregnancy.(Indefinite Hiatus)





	1. Chapter One

“We can’t wait around, Noct.”

Gladio gazed out with amber eyes. The rain beat down upon the caravan windows; it cascaded down into rivulets that distorted the view of the world outside, creating an intricate pattern that Prompto felt compelled to record. There was a continuous sound from above, as the raindrops beat out an impossible tune upon the metal, and a cold chill drifted through the caravan enough to bring about goosebumps upon Prompto’s skin. He smiled.

It felt good to be inside for once, particularly as a group. There was a rich smell of homemade cuisine from the basic stovetop, while Ignis fumbled around carefully with bare fingers for various ingredients, and every now and then Prompto caught a flash of light from Noctis’ phone as he flicked through various news reports, so that his face was lit up with a glow that was almost photogenic. Gladio paced back and forth in a way that made the floor of the caravan shake in a subtle manner, just enough that Prompto felt it underfoot.

The larger man ran a hand through his brown hair. The way his muscles bulged – as well as how his lips drew thin – struck Prompto that he was in less than a good mood, which forced Prompto to drop his hands between parted legs, and he distracted himself with fiddling with the settings of his camera. It was dark within the caravan, as the clouds above obscured the sun and sent strange shadows about the interior. Prompto hummed to himself.

“Will you cut that shit out?” Gladio snapped.

“Well, there’s no need to take it out upon Prompto,” said Ignis in a firm voice. “It is unsafe to drive in this weather, in any case. I suggest that we remain here for the duration of the night; in the morning we can return to the Citadel, where his Majesty will no doubt await our arrival. In the meantime, dinner is prepared. I trust Peppery Daggerquill Rice will suffice?”

“Aw, I was hoping for something with carrots.” Prompto stood up and arched his back. “I’ve got such a craving for carrots, plus we _never_ get to eat them. I know the big guy here is into them, too, and it’d make a nice change, right? Right? Please? Pretty please?”

“I didn’t survive the war to be force-fed carrots,” muttered Noctis.

“What did carrots ever do to you, anyway?”

Gladio groaned in response to their bickering comments. He placed to hands flat upon the dining table, as he drew in deep breaths that looked like they pushed his tank-top to breaking limits, and Prompto – hungrier than he had been in a while – slid into a chair and awaited for his friends to join him. The table became his main focus, as he kept his head low and looked at the various stains and cracks in the plastic overlay. He avoided looking to Gladio.

The two scars across the older man’s face were angry and red, while his square face was flushed with anger, and the tattoos upon his arms bulged with the tension within his muscles, which only increased as Noctis came over and slumped into a spot just opposite Prompto. It was awkward to say the least, as Prompto listened to his thrumming heartbeat within his ears, and – as he gnawed nervously at his lip – he turned to watch Ignis. The older man held a plate in each hand, while he slowly edged his way over to the table. Prompto blushed.

“Need a hand there, Iggy?”

Ignis smiled, but ultimately shook his head. He would occasionally sweep his foot before him, as if in search of some hidden obstacle, and kept perfect posture that was admirable enough that Prompto felt his fingers twitch around his camera. Gladio grunted. It was a harsh sound that was made in warning, so that Prompto let go of his camera and pouted in response, and he moved his hands instead to his stomach, where he rubbed lazy circles.

Noctis yawned from opposite the table; he leaned one forearm upon the windowsill, while a leg came up to rest a foot upon the soft cushion of the sofa-bed that made up that side of the table’s ‘chairs’. Gladio quickly dropped beside him, where he shot him a dark look and held his hands before him upon the table. There was a throat-clearing cough from Ignis, who warned them to remove their hands from the table, and the two plates were slid before the two youngest men with a high-pitched sound of porcelain upon plastic.

“None for me?” Gladio asked.

“Of course, but a moment,” said Ignis.

There were a few loud sounds from outside. They caught Ignis’ attention, enough that he quirked his head to follow the sounds, but he soon wandered into the kitchenette and returned with two plates filled with food for Gladio and himself. Prompto blushed further, as Ignis slid next to him and their legs touched for one brief moment in time. The warmth was something that Prompto had missed since his time in captivity at Ardyn’s hands. He moved instinctively into the touch, only to bite his lip in embarrassment when Ignis pulled away.

“Now,” said Ignis, “pray tell what is the cause for this animosity?”

“How about the fact we’re still here?” Gladio snapped.

“The war’s over, isn’t it?” Noctis bit back. He stabbed at his food. “We lost Clarus. We lost Luna. We lost so many people . . . _shit_ , Prompto was _tortured_ by their hands and Ignis lost his fucking _sight_ . . . I had to be strong before, had to fulfil my duty, but you want me to go right back to palace and being prince? Don’t I deserve a break?”

“You don’t fucking get a break! You’re going to be king one day; they’re probably going to hold a festival in your name, as the prince who destroyed all demons and saved the world, but _no_. . . you just want to fuck around and put your dick into someone else.”

“That was a whole month ago! I thought you were over that?”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m not over it.”

Ignis slammed down his fork with a hiss of breath. The scars around his eyes crinkled with the narrowing of his gaze, as his hands slowly moved back to his pocket to retrieve his gloves, and Prompto looked in distraction to the movements by his side. Noctis breathed deeply through his nose, with nostrils flared, as he gripped at his knife until his knuckles turned white, and a nervousness cast through Prompto until his stomach churned in response.

There was an awkward silence, where only the sound of the rain provided comfort. It was difficult to look between Gladio and Noctis and see such frustrations; he knew how difficult it was to intervene, with only Ignis ever successfully managing to mediate in the past, and he remembered all too well how it felt to have Gladio’s meaty palm shoved in his face and knocking him halfway across the carriage. He swallowed hard, as he rubbed at the leather band around his wrist and fought back deep-seated fears. Prompto chanced:

“So – er – what’s this about?”

Noctis huffed in response. He leaned upon his elbow and rested his head upon his hand, while he stared down into his food, and Prompto – catching the softness to his eyes, as well as the paleness to his cheeks – felt an instinctive urge to try and cheer his friend up. The weight of his camera weighed down from the strap around his neck, while the draught from the door caught against his bare arms and caused his hair to stand on end, and Prompto could only gnaw at his lip impatiently as he waited for Noctis to finally break the silence.

“Gladio and I started dating a couple weeks back.”

“That’s awfully risky, Noct,” said Ignis.

“Yeah, er, isn’t he your Shield?” Prompto asked with a blush. “I mean, are you even – like – _allowed_ to date him? I hate to kind of bring up Luna, but she had all this political clout and all Gladio’s got are . . . well . . . muscles and an obsession for noodles. Plus, he’s going to look pretty weird in all the regal outfits. Like a chocobo in a suit.”

“Carry on, Prompto,” warned Gladio. “I dare you.”

“Ah. If I may interject?” Ignis asked. “Am I right to infer that a month ago – after using the Crystal to its full potential – you slept with another man or woman? If this was before you two became a monogamous couple, I’m afraid that I fail to see the issue.”

“The issue is that the relationship’s founded on a freaking lie.” Gladio took an angry bite of his food, so that when he spoke he spat a few fragments. “I thought I was going to be his first, but instead all I’m getting is sloppy seconds. I just don’t get – if he was looking for a distraction – why he couldn’t come to _me_. Why someone else? What? I ain’t good enough? If this was just about freaking Luna and Ardyn's deaths, I could've helped with that.”

Prompto pursed his lips into a pout; he glared with blue eyes to Gladio, making his displeasure known through facial gestures alone, but Gladio simply raised a hand and jerked his head as if to provoke Prompto into doing more than just pout. He kept silent and looked down at his plate, where he prodded at his food, and tried to ignore the slight upon his best friend, even as said friend turned his head to glare daggers at Gladio. The food tasted perfect, although it looked a little messy, but Ignis could hardly be faulted for that.

“It’s not like you saved yourself for me,” muttered Noctis.

Gladio huffed in response, as he took a large bite of food. There was a faint blush to his cheeks, as if he was embarrassed of his rather large track record, and he jabbed violently at his meal with a few muttered curses. A car horn honked outside, jolting Prompto onto high alert, and occasionally flashes of headlights would stream through the windowpanes and cast moving shadows about the walls. Gladio said in a quiet voice:

“No, but I never lied about it, either.”

“I didn’t _lie_ ,” spat Noctis.

“Hey,” chirped Prompto, “I could go take a walk? I bet Iggy would want to come along, too. I know it’s raining and all, but there’s always the Crow’s Nest. To be honest, this place is way too stuffy anyway, it’s making me all light-headed and it’d probably be –”

“Look, it’s not like I planned it,” interrupted Noctis, as he turned to face Gladio. “I thought I was going to _die_ when I touched the Crystal; it started to pull me in and Ardyn was gloating about how he’d won, and I – I thought you were all dead, that you’d been overwhelmed by the Demons and I’d just . . . left you. I didn’t expect for the Crystal to react as it did; the Demons were gone, Ardyn was dead, and you guys -? You guys found me.

“I had all this guilt and pain and confusion, but the last time I tried to turn to you it didn’t end up so good, did it? You spent the next few days bitching at me, you punched Prompto in the face and it took Ignis to intervene for you to stop, but even then you never apologised. I just – I just wanted to be with someone that _understood_. That’s all. That’s it. I couldn't turn to Luna, not when she'd - she'd . . . a-anyway, I was in shock and exhausted and I just turned to someone else, does it really matter who or why?”

Gladio put down his knife and fork. He hunched over, as he ran callused fingers over his face and lips, and looked to Noctis who was unable to look to him in turn. Ignis said nothing, but lowered his head to mimic the action of someone who was looking away, and Prompto – feeling too helpless to intervene – fidgeted where he sat and struggled to keep still. The stools on their side of the table were like bullets, both hard and penetrating, and it made an awkward situation all the more awkward. Gladio glared Prompto into stillness, as he said coldly:

“I’d have been there for you, Noct.”

“Yeah, well, I know that now.” Noctis dug his hands into black hair. “I just had a rough patch, alright? I – I _loved_ Luna more than anything, but she’s gone and she’s the one person I wanted to turn to about this . . . all of this. I didn’t know that I was bisexual, but I did know that there was this person who reminded me _so much_ of her physically, who was willing to hold me and wipe away the tears and let me just . . . mourn. I gave in.”

“Ah, I suppose that is quite a human feeling,” said Ignis. “I do remember once or twice having given into such sensations in my grief. There is something about death and sex that go hand in hand, an almost intrinsic link that transcends all reason.”

“I guess that’s one way to put it. It just felt good to be held and forget about everything, and – to be honest – I _hated_ myself the next day . . . it felt too much like I cheated on Luna, even though she was gone, and then I realised I was bisexual and that was just one more thing to deal with and I . . . I don’t know. I didn’t think you’d hate me for it. You're acting like I fucking slept with Ardyn or something.”

Ignis coughed to clear his throat; he stood to his feet, despite his half-eaten meal, and carefully took the plate into gloved hands. Prompto was at once on his feet, where he took his plate in turn and pressed a hand to the small of Ignis’ back. It was a gesture that started to irk Ignis just a little, which was obvious in the way he tensed, but the holdover from his weaker moments – where he struggled to walk and could barely contribute to battle – lingered and remained despite their changes in circumstance. Prompto also relished in the small touches.

He moved with Ignis over to the kitchenette. Ignis took the plates and cleaned up with a quiet expertise, barely muttering a complaint as Prompto neglected to help in his distraction, but he watched from the corner of his eye as Gladio reached out to clasp his hand around Noctis’ jaw, where he rubbed a rough thumb upon the corner of his lip. It brought a small spark of jealousy about him, as he looked away with a sad smile, until Ignis nudged him.

The older man aimed his eyes in his direction, almost as if looking at him, and he wore a smile that made his expression come alive. He looked beautiful. Prompto blushed and took one of the wet plates from the bowl, where he dried it with the dishcloth, and together they worked in a rhythmic unison to finish their chores. It felt good to be so close to another person and feel wanted, enough that he looked to his wristband and pulled a face not unlike a grimace. He made to pull the band off for the first time, when he heard:

“I don’t hate you, Noct.”

“I told you because I thought you needed to know,” admitted Noctis. “I don’t want to keep our relationship secret, but that means I need to be sure we _have_ a relationship. If there are any secrets between us, there’s no trust or open communication, and – besides – what happened was a total one-off. I want us to be a couple, if you still want me.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m still not fucking jealous,” muttered Gladio. “Look, I can get wanting to put off going back home, but we can sort this out back there. If we stay out here much longer, they’re going to send someone after us. We have to go back.”

“W-Why don’t we go on ahead?” Prompto chirped.

“What good’s that going to do?”

Gladio turned his head and leaned against the back of the sofa bed. He quirked a large eyebrow, enough to bring a blush of embarrassment to Prompto’s lips, and he slumped his shoulders in response with a small shrug. The small sound of rustling fabric must have been picked up by Ignis, who placed a hand upon his shoulder and squeezed with an affectionate hold, before the older man turned awkwardly in the others’ direction. Prompto watched him with a curious gaze, as Ignis nodded to the other pair of men and said:

“I believe we can somewhat sway his Majesty.”

“Yeah?” Gladio asked. “Want to fill us in with how?”

“I serve as Noctis’ advisor, do I not?” Ignis adjusted his glasses. “Prompto and I will go on ahead, where I will make the case that the trauma of war requires that Noctis take some time alone in order to recuperate and recover his mental faculties. He will resume his royal duties upon his return. It will also give you time to fix whatever _this_ may well be.”

Prompto smirked and jumped on the back of his heels, as he raised his hands into closed fists by his chest in a somewhat childish gesture of excitement, and – as he hopped from foot to foot – Ignis gave a small sigh and looked to him with a half-smile of amusement. It was always good with Ignis looked in his direction, as if he were being seen for the first time, and yet he knew the truth was Ignis would never truly look upon him again. Prompto spun around and hummed a lazy tune to himself, before he stopped and made a v-sign.

“See, silver lining,” said Prompto.

Gladio groaned. He a hand over his face and dropped his head back, where he stared upward at the stained ceiling with a narrowed glare. Ignis placed a hand again on Prompto’s shoulder, where – if he were feeling generous with himself – he could almost fool himself into believing that those fingers squeezed enough to show some real interest. He looked to Ignis with a soft gaze, hopeful that maybe the ride back alone would provide something more.

“We’ll go on ahead,” said Ignis. “We’ll also take the car.”

“Call us if you need a lift back,” teased Prompto.

Gladio flipped him off in response.

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

Ignis looked handsome.

Prompto could only chance small glances, but each one was worth the look. Those green eyes moved as if aware of their surroundings, with such life and expressions that it was easy to forget his disability, and Prompto relished every time those thin lines at the corner of his eyes deepened. They reflected the start of a subdued smile, something small and subtle that would often escape the attention of the others, but meant the world to him every time.

The wind was particularly strong that night. It ruffled the light brown hair of Ignis, which added a further distraction that sometimes added to slight swerves of the car, and each time the car jolted – usually with a jerk of its passengers – Ignis would grunt and glare. Prompto chuckled and adjusted the radio; the sound of techno-pop flooded them from the speakers, providing a tune that he allowed him to tap out a tempo upon the steering wheel, and he nodded his head along with the music. The car swerved a little to the side.

“Got to love these new headlights, huh?” Prompto asked.

“I wouldn’t know,” said Ignis in a terse voice.

“Ah, right, I forgot about that.”

Ignis grunted and reached out to the stereo. It was difficult not to take the controls for him, as those long fingers slipped at the dial and accidentally blasted them nearly to deafness, and – as Prompto cursed – Ignis soon turned the dial into an ‘off’ position. The sudden quiet was made all the more jarring by the sudden noise, and now Prompto was all too aware of the sound of the roaring engine and the beating of his heart. He gnawed at his lip and continued to tap a strange tune to the music only he heard, while Ignis sighed and leaned back.

“I wish you could see this, Iggy,” chirped Prompto.

He chanced another glance to his right, where Ignis adjusted his glasses. They were effectively useless at this point, although Prompto hadn’t found the strength to ask why he still wore them, but they framed his square face well and complemented his pointed features. The older man was difficult to read. Prompto heaved a sigh and turned his attention back to the road, where Insomnia slowly began to creep into view from beyond the horizon. It was barely more than a few broken lights scattered in the darkness, but it was home.

“I can’t even show you the photographs or the video.”

“True, but you forget one thing,” said Ignis. “I have something _far_ greater than vision with which to see . . . I have the very eyes and soul of an artist.”

Ignis turned his head with a smile. Prompto hummed lazily, until he caught the expression and heard the tone to his voice, and suddenly – as he momentarily let go of the wheel in surprise – he realised that Ignis meant _him_. He was complimenting _him_. The words raced around and around in his head, as he blinked rapidly and quickly gripped at the wheel to regain control, but already his cheeks flushed a violent crimson and his mouth felt far drier than he could ever recall. Ignis gave a sound like a scoff, as he turned back.

“Tell me, Prompto,” implored Ignis. “What do you see?”

“Well, Cindy’s headlights really do the trick.” Prompto closed his eyes and took in the crisp air. “I keep thinking these babies are what’s keeping demons are at bay, but there _are_ no demons, not any more, and it’s like . . . wow! I can also see lights in the distance. They look like the kind of the big guy’s campfires. They’re this vibrant red on a black sky. It’s nice.”

“Hmm, I remember I would look at the sky sans glasses,” observed Ignis. “The stars would provide a small comfort, but the moon would always look slightly off. I would replace my glasses and it would be crystal clear. I could see the cracks and crevices, the shadows –”

“The orange glow, too, right? It’s all golden tonight. Big, too. It looks like it’s coming out of the sky just to greet us, but you can really see the face of a man if you focus enough on the dark spots . . . Noct used to say they looked like a rabbit when we were kids. I wish you could see it, because maybe then you could tell me if you think it looks like a man or a rabbit, as it’d be nice to settle the argument once and for all. It’s . . . beautiful.”

“Take note of it while you can. All things must fade with time.”

“I don’t know, man, some things stay forever.”

Prompto looked again to Ignis. The loss was evident on each and every one of their group, but Ignis perhaps bore the literal scars worse than any of them, and those angry marks – so red and deep upon his skin – stood as visual markers of the eyesight lost. It reminded him of how he should have confessed so long ago, instead of leaving it for now or later, and he found himself lost in those green eyes and bit his lip until he tasted a bead of blood.

“Eyes on the road!”

The sharp words reminded him of the task at hand. He swore and swung the car back onto the appropriate lane, half-wondering how Ignis even knew and half-embarrassed that his reputation for bad driving was apparently well deserved, and – as the rush of adrenaline wore off – he let out a long exhale of breath. Prompto swallowed hard; he darted his eyes about to make certain that the demons were still finally gone, while he gripped so tight upon the wheel that his knuckles turned a sickly white. Ignis muttered something beneath his breath.

“Shit, sorry,” muttered Prompto.

“Pull over, Prompto. This is not a request.”

Prompto knew better than to question his friend. He pulled over onto the side of the road, although – with so many miles visible behind and in front, and with so few cars on their journey toward the city – he knew that there was little chance of proving an obstacle. The hand brake gave a familiar series of clicks, as he pulled it into position. Prompto looked to the front of the car; the headlights caught various specks of dust and sand, creating a strange image of a whole other world, and – for a moment – he was almost lost.

Ignis climbed out of the car, albeit with one hand clenched firm upon his cane. There was a series of sounds from the unlocking of the seatbelt to the slam of the car door, and – as Prompto listened, imagining himself in Ignis’ world – he resigned himself to climbing out in turn and walked around to stand upon the tarmac next to the other man. They leaned against the car and stood in silence, until Prompto chanced a teasing remark.

“You’re not going to drive, are you?”

“You are distracted,” observed Ignis. “Is this about earlier?”

“I – I guess,” admitted Prompto. “We’ve all fought in the past, but I never really saw Gladio like that before, but then I never really hung out with you or Gladio without Noct around, so maybe it’s just because – well – I’ve not been around enough to see it. He got pretty scary and I guess it got to me, because I didn’t think Noct had done anything wrong . . . right?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Ignis adjusted his glasses with his index finger. “If I am to be honest, Prompto, I do believe there may be an element of insecurity at play. Gladio may have something of a flirt and a womaniser, but I suspect that this may be his first relationship with a male and possibly even his first serious relationship. It has thus come as a shock to know that there is – how should I put it? – competition to his beloved.”

“Yeah, but he’s all muscle! Who could compete with that?” Prompto smiled absently and looked across the horizon toward Insomnia. “Who would want to, anyway? Noct is great and all, but I doubt he’s everyone’s type, plus he’s _so_ only into Gladio.”

“Surely sleeping with another implies some interest in another?”

“What? No way! At least, not this time around.”

Prompto kicked at the ground with a booted foot. The tarmac was cracked in places, likely due to damage from the many months of war, and it was difficult to believe that they finally attained a sense of peace missing in all those decades. In time the roads and buildings would be mended, while the victims of war would be healed, and it would be as if the war never transpired. Prompto closed his eyes and basked in the cool breeze, which brought rich scents from distant campfires and various plant-life. Ignis interrupted his thoughts with a quiet:

“You know the identity of this mystery lover.”

The silence that followed was awkward, only interrupted by the chirps and creaks of the world around them, as the various nocturnal animals continued life free of fear of the two men that stood alone upon the long road home. Prompto scratched at his neck, while he pursed his lips and kicked once more at the tarmac. A cane struck his leg. It wasn’t a violent or cruel gesture, but simply a sudden soft rap and a still pressure that told him to stop.

“Yeah, I know,” whispered Prompto.

“Would you be willing to confide their identity to me?”

“Yes and no?” Prompto shrugged with a blush. “I guess it’s probably okay; it’s not as though Noct’s going to keep it secret from Gladio, right? I don’t know . . . I just know that things between us – you and me – are pretty good, and I don’t want to risk that.”

“Let us not think to the past, but to the future.” Ignis leaned back to catch the breeze upon his cheeks, while his lifeless eyes aimed themselves upon the soft moonbeams. “I have not been oblivious to your attentions, but suffice to say that now is not the time or the place. We can discuss that at a later date. For now, I simply wish to focus on the matter at hand.”

“So you won’t hate me if I tell you that I slept with Noctis?”

“No, but I won’t say it comes as a surprise, either.”

The smirk on Ignis’ face caused Prompto’s mouth to hang open. He turned to face his friend; he felt his back slightly hunch, while his hands hung palm-outright by his sides, and he blinked away his shock and confusion. Ignis simply kept his head forward, as if he could somehow see the wide expanse of fields and wildlife, while he folded his arms across his chest and continued to appreciate the breeze. The rain had stopped some time back, but the air was still warm and humid. Prompto asked in a quiet voice:

“Huh? You knew?”

“I suspected,” admitted Ignis. “I never knew.”

Prompto swallowed hard and looked away. He ran his hands through blond hair, before they came to clasp behind his neck in a nervous gesture. It was easier to keep his hands busy than to try and keep them still, even as he shifted from foot to foot and felt distracted by the way his long short touched upon the back of his knees, and the blush across his cheeks burned with a fiery intensity that made him grateful Ignis couldn’t see his reaction.

“We’re just friends,” muttered Prompto. “I promise.”

“I believe you, but there are still lingering questions to be answered.”

“If you mean how it happened, I don’t really think there’s much mystery.” Prompto moved his weight from foot to foot and rolled his head back and forth. “It was after Noct touched the crystal . . . well, a few days after, I guess. I don’t think I’ve ever been so banged up in my life! I was still bruised and scarred and bloody from Ardyn and the torture, but then we were ambushed by all those demons, too, and it was just like . . . _ouch_.

“Noct was pretty beat. He thought he was going to get sucked into the crystal, while Ardyn was gloating like he’d won, and we all knew the story about how he had to – well – you know . . . _die_. Only, the crystal let out a flash of light. The way Noct tells it, he had all these visions and felt like ten years had past. He was so _sure_ that he’d lost time, but it was only a few seconds, and he remembers fighting Ardyn on the astral plane, too. He woke up and all the demons were gone and Ardyn was nothing but a cold corpse.”

Prompto let out a rush of breath. He realised that each sentence had ran faster and faster, with barely a space to take in air, and it was a relief to finally have space to gather his thoughts and process what had been said. The prophecy lingered in his mind; everyone expected for Noct to die that day, only to feel the immense relief of their friend still with them. Prompto looked out with eyes filled with tears. They stung and clouded his vision.

“It feels weird to be talking about it aloud,” admitted Prompto. “We went to rest by that Haven just outside Altissia. Gladio took you to the markets, remember? Noct and I crashed in the tent; we were both pretty beat, unable to do long walks or anything too strenuous, and we got to talking just like when we were kids. Noct was still devastated by having lost Luna, but he also felt all this guilt about Ardyn, like . . . like he should have been able to save him, I guess. He struggled with how he felt for Gladio. He struggled with his duty . . .

“He knew he’d have to go back and face his pops, but it was all just so difficult. Noct didn’t want to bum you out with stuff, because you’d suffered so much and were still struggling to get by, and he knew Gladio would be pissed off, because he reacted pretty shoddily last time Noct showed any kind of emotion. He felt all alone and just wanted some kind of reassurance and comfort, and I – I was in that same place, so I understood how it felt.”

“Prompto, you could have turned to me,” said Ignis in a firm voice. “I would certainly not have turned you away, and as for Gladio -? The reason he reacted so badly upon the train was a mixture of unresolved grief for his father and a belief in the greater good; he believed that our sacrifices would be for nought, should we lose ourselves to despair.”

“I get that, honestly! I think Noctis got that, too, but it’s just so hard not to worry, and then there’s someone just _there_ who gets you and you trust and that wants the same things, and it’s just easier to give in than to try and fight it, and I know it was wrong, but . . . yeah.”

“I would not call it ‘wrong’, per se,” murmured Ignis.

The humidity increased. Prompto felt something wet upon his cheek; he reached up with long fingers to touch upon the moisture, and – for a brief moment – was unsure whether he touched upon a stray tear or a fallen raindrop. He rubbed it away from his pale and freckled skin, before he realised that he was crying to himself. It was impossible to hold back. He smiled and leaned back upon the car, where he offered up his tears to the rain from above.

There was very little rain at first, perhaps a few scattered droplets at most, but it was enough for Ignis to gently place a hand upon his back and ask him to step aside. Prompto sighed, but rounded the car to take his spot in the driver’s seat. They sat side-by-side, as the roof of the car slid into place above them, and – just in time – there followed the sound of thousands of droplets striking the roof with great strength. It beat out a soothing tune, while the windscreen was blurred with rivulets of water, and Ignis was left to ask in a soft voice:

“May I ask what led to your despair?”

“I guess what I learned about my past,” admitted Prompto. “It’s part of why I’m dreading Gladio finding out about me and Noct; I know he’s a good guy, but this _really_ deep and scary part of me is thinking he’ll just be like ‘see, just like a Niff’. It was tough growing up . . . always the overweight kid, the kid who was alone . . . every time I look down to my wrist, I keep thinking _this_ is why, because I’m not like you guys.”

“No, but perhaps you are _better_ than us.” Ignis smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Do not underestimate how great you contribute to Lucis; we could certainly not have won this war without you, while you saved our prince’s life many a time, and you have proved a most excellent friend. It was you who would always wait for me, never the others.”

“Yeah, but it’s also no secret that I’m the weakest one. If this were an RPG, I’d have the weakest HP count and I’d probably be the one with a crappy AI that keeps running into danger despite having the long-range weapon. I suck at combat.”

“Must we _really_ make this a competition?”

Ignis raised a hand to signal to the scars about his face. Prompto chuckled nervously, as he remembered how Ignis had once referred to himself as ‘the load’, while Gladio worried incessantly about having to defend one who couldn’t defend themselves, and – as if borne by stubbornness alone – Ignis had soon excelled once more in combat. The rain continued to pour from the black sky, as Prompto turned to look at his closest friend and largest crush, and he realised that his friends would never turn their backs on him. They loved him.

“You’re not a load,” muttered Prompto.

“True, just as you are not worthless,” added Ignis.

“Noct said the same thing.” Prompto bit his lip and scratched his neck. “I don’t regret sleeping with him. I know that’s weird, because Noct and I don’t have feelings for each other, but I just . . . I don’t regret it. We were both so upset; I think we were both crying, and we both just wanted to forget our pain and confusion, and I’m not even sure who started it, but it was pretty good. My first time was with someone I trusted, so I’m not going to complain.”

“Indeed, that is the most important part.” Ignis crossed his arms and legs, while he turned his head toward the sound of the rainfall. “I will ask whether yourself or Noctis experienced any pain during the intercourse, as well as that you used appropriate protection? The magic passed down through the royal line is particularly strong, Prompto. It makes Noctis more prone to pregnancy than the average man or woman. You surely must realise this?”

“Yeah, yeah. We all had the same sex education classes. Don't worry; we were safe." Prompto shrugged. "It wasn’t painful either; at least, I don’t think it was painful? It’s not as though I can – ah – speak for Noct, right? It was nice, but we made a promise the next day to go back to just friends. I prefer that.”

“Very well. It seems there are no lasting consequences.”

“Nope! That’s the main thing, right?”

They sat in silence for a long few minutes, until Prompto turned on the engine. He flicked on the radio to break up the quiet with a few snatches of songs, while the roar of the engine provided a welcome distraction, and – as he slowly checked that the roads were clear – he pulled out onto the main road. Ignis kept a stoic expression; it was impossible to read his reaction to the previous information, but Prompto did see how he pursed his lips and tapped his fingers upon the black of his overcoat. Prompto swallowed hard and asked:

“So you don’t hate me?”

“If anything, I do admit to some jealousy.”

“No kidding?” Prompto blushed and asked: “If you want, we can -?”

“Most certainly not.” Ignis turned his head in Prompto’s direction. “I believe a serious conversation is in order before a relationship can be pursued, while a firm foundation must be established before anything intimate can occur. In any case, we must be back at the Citadel before sunup. Let us simply drive for now and talk along the way.”

“Er, yeah, sure. I guess we can do that.”

They continued their journey while the city lights came ever closer, and Prompto realised – for the first time in many months – they would finally be returning home, where they would be reunited with loved ones and able to help repair the city they so loved. The windscreen wipers squeaked a little upon the window, as the rain continued to pour, and somewhere from the backseat he heard the vibration from his phone. He nearly missed when Ignis asked:

“So . . . how was our dear Noctis?”

Prompto swerved the car in shock. He cursed loudly, as he jerked the car back onto the appropriate lane, and looked to Ignis with a red face and open mouth. The older man did nothing except smile in response, while he angled his body slightly away from Prompto, and – as he kept arms folded and legs crossed – Prompto was almost certain he saw an imperceptible shake to those shoulders that indicated laughter and amusement.

“That good, hmm?” Ignis teased.

 

 


	3. Chapter Three

Insomnia had fallen.

Prompto looked out from the balcony; the city was a strange mixture of life and death, where skyscrapers stood next to rubble and people milled about by makeshift graves, and there were still turrets of smoke stretching out into the sky from various spots. The Citadel survived well, at least for the most part. It was said most of the damage was within the throne room, where many officials and workers could be seen carting debris and dirt back and forth.

They also brought back the bodies of the dead.

There was one who lay impaled as a warning by Arden, displayed prominently within the throne room so that his sacrifice looked almost in vain, and Prompto remembered Cor’s words clearly upon seeing the cold and desecrated corpse: ‘sleep well, Nyx’. The stench of iron lingered in every room, but the balconies only brought dust and smoke. It was difficult to take any steps without hearing a crackle from underfoot, as grit and stones and various remains ground together with blunt force. Prompto sighed and leaned upon rails.

He looked in the direction of the residential district, not far from his old school and one of the larger park areas, but there was nothing there but rubble and a few stray fires. The house he once called a home was gone. There were a few stray walls that still stood, but mostly a handful of survivors scrambled through the remnants to collect personal possessions that still stood a chance at being recovered. He noticed how they moved like ants in the distance.

Ignis came up behind him.

There was a rustle of movement, until Ignis stood by his side. The older man had changed into more casual wear, so that the tight t-shirt clung to his body like a second skin, and a few stray scars marred his arms from their recent battles. Prompto caught the scent of expensive cologne and a sweet smelling soap, and he wondered whether Ignis compensated his lack of sight through an enjoyment of aromas. They both stood quiet as the warm breeze caught at their hair, while the humidity brought an uncomfortable sticky sensation.

“Noct and Gladio will be arriving shortly,” observed Ignis.

Prompto chanced a glance to Ignis’ pocket, where he saw the phone partially hidden. He wondered what Gladio sounded like upon the phone, whether he was angry or resigned or betrayed by what Noctis had probably revealed, but – as Prompto looked away with a sigh – he asked no questions and said no words. He simply looked back to where his home once stood; he bit into his lip and looked as the sun slowly rose up over the horizon, casting dark shadows across the rubble and decimated areas. Prompto looked away with watery eyes.

“Do you think they survived?” Prompto asked.

“Hmm?” Ignis responded.

“My parents. Your uncle.” Prompto turned his back upon the cityscape. “No one called us since we left Insomnia. Iris, Monica, Talcot . . . they made it out okay, but no one’s able to tell us whether _our_ family are okay, you know? Like, shouldn’t we have heard something by now? I keep seeing them sorting through the dead, but no one’s said anything . . .”

“There are many dead, Prompto. It may sound rather morbid, but there are some beyond recognition and many who died with no forms of identification. They are doing all that can be done to provide closure to the survivors, but the truth of the matter is that we may have to make do with visiting nameless graves and paying respect to nameless victims. It is possible that we may never know the outcome. They may simply be gone.”

Prompto looked into Ignis’ rooms. He listened to the sounds in the city, where occasionally there would be the roar of a car that somehow managed to navigate the few unbroken roads, and the laughter of the few Kingsglaive and Crownsguard that survived the nightmare of war, and he wondered how life could go on surrounded by such destruction. The camera around his neck weighed him down, stacked with photographic evidence of the events around them, and he wondered what such photojournalism would mean to the victims.

“But what about people’s homes?” Prompto asked. “I know a lot of the refugees left the city, but surely people like us will start coming back, right? Where am I supposed to live now? I saw Noctis’ apartment building split right down the middle, plus the big guy’s house looks pretty derelict, and my place is just – well – gone! Where are people going to live? How are they going to eat? Can we even go back to normal? Is there a normal?”

“Those are valid questions indeed.” Ignis adjusted his glasses. “I cannot answer them at this moment in time, but – rest assured – the king has given you permission to reside within my rooms for the time being. Those others within the Citadel are also allowed loved ones to stay with them, while temporary accommodation has been provided for the displaced masses.”

“It’s kind of weird being allowed to stay here. I mean I _know_ I’m Crownsguard now, but I always just expected to go back to my place and crash there . . . I was hoping my parents would finally be home, so I’d get to show them my uniform, and I’d have my family back.”

“We can arrange for your house to be rebuilt in time, I can assure you.”

“Yeah, but then I’d have a house, not a home.”

They stood in an awkward silence, until Prompto was unable to endure any further. He walked back inside the bedroom, which – aside from a small layer of dust, as well as a somewhat stale smell – looked like it may have been untouched since Ignis left. There was an array of framed photographs that their owner would never look upon again, as well as a few small personal items scattered about for decoration. It screamed ‘Ignis’ at every angle.

Prompto walked over to the bed. He sat down on what he assumed would be ‘his’ half; it felt good to finally have a supportive mattress and thick duvets, but strange that they would still be required to share despite no longer forced to camp out or splurge on motel rooms. Prompto threw himself back, with arms raised high and hands clasped behind his head, while he stared up at a ceiling painted with various swirls and patterns, as if anyone had any reason to stare at a ceiling for extended periods of time. He asked with a yawn:

“What about the – er – Crystal?”

Ignis turned and came back into the room. He slid closed the balcony doors behind him; they stopped a lot of the sounds from outside, but the rising sun streamed through the glass and felt magnified upon Prompto’s pale skin, and yet he appreciated the warmth. There was a series of sounds, as Ignis tidied about the room and found an old rag with which to dust, and – aside from one or two bumps into various pieces of furniture – his muscle memory served him well and he moved with great expertise. Prompto nearly forgot his condition.

“The Crystal has been retrieved,” admitted Ignis.

“So we still have the Wall?”

“We do, but it is our desire not to use it.” Ignis paused and faced Prompto. “There is a wish to see regions regain their former independence, while much of the Niflheim government has been destroyed, and – as such – focus has shifted onto defeating what is left of Niflheim and restoring a world balance. Peace treaties have been signed with those such as Tenebrae.”

“Man, I’m glad I’m not royalty.” Prompto watched as Ignis put the cloth away, before he sat up and rested clasped hands between spread legs. “Still, while you guys deal with all the – er – political stuff, is there anything I can be doing? I want to get out and help.”

“There is a great deal, indeed. I shall make arrangements for you.”

“Thanks, and – ah – if you hear about my parents . . .”

Ignis walked over to him; a gloved hand was pressed to his shoulder, where he felt a reassuring squeeze and smiled up into those green eyes. There was a great deal of sound from the hallway, as various Crownsguard and Kingsglaive members milled to and fro, and Prompto wondered where they lived before the war destroyed a majority of their homes. Did they have family in the few residential and outlying districts that were unscathed? Did they have anyone to fall back upon? Ignis squeezed his shoulder once more.

“I will alert you at once,” promised Ignis.

They remained in silence for a few seconds. Prompto heard loud shouts from outside, followed by a small commotion from within the hall, and – as he stood to protect Ignis from any potential threat – the doors to the bedroom were flung open. The door handle struck the wall and the impact left a dent upon the plaster, and Prompto was left to blink away his surprise when he saw Gladio standing within the doorway. He looked pissed.

Gladio took up a great deal of space. He wore a Crownsguard shirt and dark trousers, while his muscled and tattooed arms remained on prominent display, and he looked almost professional with his stances and attire. The muscles bulged in his arm; his hands were clenched into tight fists that made the veins turn into thick ropes, while his lips pursed into thin white lines, and his eyes locked upon Prompto with a strange intensity. Prompto swallowed hard and scratched a hand through his blond hair.

“Yo, Prompto,” called Gladio.

Prompto barely had time to respond. Gladio bounded over and punched him hard; the fist collided with his cheekbone and sent him hurtling onto the bed, where he sprawled out and rolled onto his back, and – as he cursed and blinked away tears of pain – he raised a hand to his cheek. He felt blood. There was a tear in the skin, so that warm blood beaded at the cut and trickled down over pale cheeks, and Prompto felt dizzy from the impact. He looked up to see Ignis shove Gladio back with a firm push. Ignis spat in a cold voice:

“What on Earth are you doing?”

“That bastard slept with Noct,” said Gladio. He stabbed a finger in Prompto’s direction. “How the fuck did he keep that one secret? He can’t sit still or shut his mouth for a few minutes at a time, but somehow he managed to hide that for four fucking weeks? I smell bullshit. If that ain’t a sign of guilt, I don’t know what the fuck is. _Damn him_!”

“I didn’t know you were into Noct! Honest!” Prompto sat up with a wince. “If I’d known, I’d have never slept with him. As far as I knew, he was single and I was single. I would have said something, but I didn’t want to ruin my chances with Iggy, plus . . . it was only once.”

“So – what – you made him keep it secret? Huh, not like you.”

“I didn’t make him do anything! It wasn’t like that.”

The wound on his cheek stung and burned. He raised a trembling hand to the wound, but – as he pulled back his fingers to assess the amount of blood – he suspected that it felt worse than it looked, and stood to his feet before his two friends. Ignis raised an arm in his direction, as if searching for him or making sure that he was some distance from danger. There was a cool draught from the open doors, while the sound of various people quietened down and Ignis’ room was apparently given a wide berth. Gladio ran a hand over his face and muttered:

“I’m supposed to be Noct’s Shield.”

Prompto winced and jerked back. He looked up to see Ignis attempt to turn to him, perhaps to console him in some way, but – as the older man moved – he misjudged his positioning and tripped just slightly over his foot. Prompto caught him out of habit and instinct; he helped Ignis to stand again, before he looked back to Gladio and saw the muscled man pace back and forth with furious movements. He asked in a quiet whisper:

“So you were supposed to protect Noct from _me_?”

“Don’t take it personally,” spat Gladio.

“The role of the King’s Shield is to occasionally act as . . . chaperone,” explained Ignis. “You are aware of the magic that flows through the royal bloodline? If Noctis were to become impregnated by another, it greatly complicates matters in a political sense. That child would be heir apparent and inherit that same magic. It is less than ideal.”

“Whoa there,” exclaimed Prompto. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Noct and I only spent _one_ time together and I’m _pretty_ sure that we were – you know – safe. There’s no way that he could be knocked up! Besides, where is Noct anyway?”

“He’s in a private audience with his Majesty,” grunted Gladio. “King Regis nearly died the day we left; Noctis will probably be a long time, lots to catch up on and lots to discuss, and it’s not like I can blame him. If I could have one do-over conversation with my pops, there’d be a lot I’d want to say too. Not sure what’ll happen with us, though. It’s not like a Shield is raised to the same standard as an advisor or nobility. Still, what happens happens.”

“True, not as though you know a butter knife from a steak knife.”

“Don’t push your luck, Prompto. Just _don’t_.”

Gladio turned to jab his finger in Prompto’s direction. The action was an aggressive, enough that Prompto threw up his hands and took a few shaky steps back, and – as he let out a nervous laugh – Gladio rubbed his lips together and narrowed his eyes. He looked ready to launch into an attack, but he simply pulled back his hand into a close fist and shook it a few times in an absent manner. Gladio finally dropped his hand to his side with a snarl, as he took to pacing in the room with long strides. Ignis said in a cool voice:

“I doubt his Majesty will dissuade Noctis from being with you.”

There was a brief silence, as Ignis strode over to the bedroom doors. They closed with a slam louder than necessary, while Ignis turned and made his way to a chair within the seating area, and – as he sat with arms and legs folded – he quirked his head in their direction. Gladio stopped pacing and stood between them; he slumped his shoulders enough to convey a heavy burden, while his thumbs hooked into the hoops of his trousers.

“I’m hardly Lady Luna,” spat Gladio.

“Yeah, but wasn’t that like an arranged marriage?” Prompto clasped his hands behind his neck with a smirk. “I’m pretty sure that was all a part of the peace treaty terms, so it wasn’t as though the king was pushing for that from birth, right? He could be cool with it!”

“Actually, Prompto does raise a fair point,” said Ignis. “His Majesty was quite amiable to the idea of Noctis marrying for love, without any seeming pressure to procure an heir, as such it would not be _entirely_ without merit to believe he would be open to a relationship between his son and his son’s Shield. Well, providing said Shield can keep its cool.”

“Well, that depends,” said Gladio.

Prompto walked closer to Ignis. He leaned against a chest of drawers; the polished wood provided a small comfort, while it felt good to rest his forearms and be able to lean back with weight off his feet, and yet he spotted the deck of cards at the far corner of the smooth surface. They were frayed at the corners from years of use, enough that Prompto remembered how fondly Ignis played on the long nights on the road, and – as he looked to his closest friend – he realised that the cards would never be used again. Prompto asked in a quiet voice:

“Depends on what?”

“On whether you two are still fucking,” said Gladio.

“You know, Noct _probably_ told you that it was a one-time thing.” Prompto resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “If you can’t trust him, why even stay with him? It was honestly just a one-off. I mean I like Noct and all, but not in that kind of way? It was good and I don’t regret it, but it was kind of like . . . doing my brother. Kind of uncomfortable and icky.”

“Well, I believe that answers _that_ ,” muttered Ignis. “A clear answer.”

Prompto looked to Ignis and saw a smirk. The older man appeared amused by the situation, much to Gladio’s displeasure as he cracked his knuckles with a grunt. They remained in silence for a long few seconds, until the phone in Gladio’s pocket vibrated and rang with a familiar tune, and the muscled man took his phone and looked at the screen. He smiled absently to himself, before he slid the phone back into his pocket and cricked his back, and – as he took a few steps toward Prompto – he asked in a sincere voice:

“So I don’t got anything to worry about?”

“Nah, man,” chirped Prompto. “You go get him!”

Gladio raised a fist in the air. Prompto took the hint and fist-bumped his friend, even as the bruise on his cheek stung in protest to the amicable gesture, and – as Gladio walked toward the bedroom doors – he noticed that Ignis never made to follow him or look in his direction, but simply sat as if deep in concentration. There was a brief silence. Gladio banged his open palm upon the doorframe, until he stopped and looked back with a smile that caused the lines upon his face to deepen and his cheeks to flush just so from embarrassment.

“Thanks, Prompto.”

The door opened once more, as Gladio left with quick movements. Prompto finally let out a breath that he hadn’t realised he had been holding, as he gave a long exhale and slid down onto the floor, and – as he threw back his head and stared up at the ceiling – Ignis chuckled to himself and slid from his chair to sit beside him. The warmth of the other man provided a small comfort, and Prompto had to force the urge to lean in against him. He asked:

“Do you think things will work out between them?”

“I certainly hope for the best,” said Ignis.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter Four

Prompto gazed upon the wreckage.

He sat down upon the inner wall; it was one of many that crumbled or collapsed under the weight of the many attacks during the war, and this one once separated the corridor to his parents’ bedroom from the living room. He could see into their room. He could see the iron frame of the bed, along with stray planks of wood or shards of glass, and – worst of all – he saw red marks in places that could only be blood. Prompto swallowed hard.

The upper floors were completely decimated. There was a strong breeze throughout the remains of the house, while the skies above opened up and sent down a soft spray of rain, and – as he tilted his head up to feel the refreshing spray – he blinked away a few stray tears from his blue eyes. Every movement caused a crackle of the crumbled debris from beneath his hands and feet, while the dust was heavy in the air and made it difficult to breathe. He listened to the laughter and tears of his neighbours, while he sat in a strange silence.

Prompto caught the sound of footsteps.

He turned his head to catch sight of Ignis; the older man wore a white shirt with black braces, while his glasses were opaque in style and hid his eyes from sight, and – as Prompto watched him – he saw how he wielded his cane with great expertise. Ignis kept one hand hovered in the air, as he swept his cane back and forth across the floor to judge for any obstacles. He moved with grace. The car was just about visible through the blown out windows, where it parked upon the pavement with a driver obscured by the angle.

“Hey, Ignis, over here,” chirped Prompto.

Ignis quirked his head and moved in his direction. He walked slowly, although Prompto knew better than to help without real need, especially when Ignis craved his independence and grew stronger and more efficient at battle every passing day. In the past four weeks since their return to Insomnia, Ignis actually begun participating in various hunts and helping in the procurement of food, and it was sometimes easy to forget his new disadvantage. Ignis soon came beside him and reached out in search of a chair or wall. Prompto flinched.

He realised that his voice likely sounded lower, but never realised that Ignis would be unaware precisely what that meant, but – with a few strikes of his cane upon the wall, as well as a friendly outstretched hand – Prompto helped guide his friend to sit beside him. Ignis’ outer thigh pressed against his, providing a warm and intimate touch, and Prompto blushed with a slight embarrassment as he fidgeted with his hands upon his lap.

“I am surprised to find you here,” said Ignis.

Prompto shrugged, until he realised that Ignis couldn’t see the gesture. He instead whispered a ‘yeah’ and looked across the wreckage to his parents’ room, where he thought about how – on school mornings – he would wake early and listen to them prepare for the day ahead. He remembered how his father would complain about never spending time with his son, while his mother would check the contents of the fridge and leave notes of love underneath homemade magnets, and then the door would close and they would be gone.

“I come by once a week,” admitted Prompto.

“Ah, yes, Gladio did inform me of that.” Ignis adjusted his glasses with a gloved hand. “Have you had a chance to go through what was saved from the rubble? Your neighbour – Delilah, I believe – told me that they were able to save some of your more prized possessions.”

“Yeah.” Prompto sighed and threw back his head. “Yeah. I found out the first day back; I came here to see what happened, just in case maybe they were okay, and she came out to talk to me. Delilah was one of the lucky ones. There was only exterior and superficial damage to her house, but – bright side – she was able to store some of my stuff at her place to keep it safe. I owe her a lot. She even went through the rubble to stop looters from stealing anything.

“I – I saw the box that she put everything inside. It’s this large and tin piece; like a couple feet long and a foot wide, I guess? I couldn’t bring myself to open it, but she said it’s mostly jewellery and a few photo-frames and some tools . . . metal stuff that wouldn’t burn. Like, my whole _life_ reduced to a handful of scrap pieces from some garbage. I just don’t -!”

“Relax, Prompto. It will not do to give into grief.”

Prompto groaned and gripped at the wall. The plaster and charred paper broke away from the brick, crumbling under his fingertips and adding ash to the rubbish underfoot, and – as he threw his head forward – he looked down and drew in a broken breath. He struggled to concentrate, while his leg twitched in a nervous rhythm. Ignis sat quietly beside him without any movement or further words, but he angled his body just enough to almost face Prompto, while his head was kept just low enough to give the impression of eye contact.

“They did find one thing,” muttered Prompto.

“Hmm?” Ignis asked. “What was that?”

“Well, Delilah is still holding onto the box for me, but she wouldn’t let me go until I took a look at this for myself.” Prompto reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “It turns out that the fridge fell over in all the chaos, so this didn’t burn up, and . . . I don’t know . . . I guess it means my parents were proud of me, after all. They weren’t here when I came to show them my uniform; remember, the day we left Insomnia for the road trip?

“I – er – found out an old camera in my room. It took instant photos, so I took one of me in my uniform and stuck it onto the fridge, and . . . I . . . okay, well, I would have just assumed they forgot it was there, but my mother had written onto the back: ‘our son, our beloved’. It means she _saw_ the photograph. It means they _loved_ me. I just . . . I don’t know.”

The photograph was crumpled and faded. It was probably a mistake to keep it within his pocket for those past four weeks, but he felt closer to them when the photograph was close to him, and yet – as he reached out for Ignis’ hand, guiding it into his palm – he realised how foolish it was to cling to something so small in hopes that maybe it would forge a connection between himself and the dead. Ignis failed to see the image. He simply smoothed out the photograph and held it between his fingers, before handing it back with a half-smile.

They sat in relative silence, while Prompto slid the photograph back. He always preferred this part of town to other parts of Insomnia; there were areas so cramped and industrialised that it left him with a claustrophobic sensation, where the blaring and neon lights cast the city in a perpetual daytime, and he wondered whether those areas would still look the same. Prompto sagged his shoulders and gazed back to his parents’ room with a sigh.

“They found her body over there.”

He pointed in the direction of the bed. Ignis moved his head just a fraction of an inch, likely he sensed the rustle of fabric and the disturbed air, and – with a great sense of intuition – he arced his head to face the empty bedroom. The iron framework of the bed sat in the midst of broken pieces of furniture and stray pieces of metal, with all albums and artwork and clothing destroyed by the flames of war. Ignis said nothing, but he reached out for Prompto’s hand. He entwined his fingers within the blond’s, before he said in a soft whisper:

“I’m so sorry, Prompto.”

“They haven’t found my dad yet,” said Prompto. “I – I keep hoping he’s alive. He apparently went out to run errands when the fighting broke out, but no one’s seen anything of him since then, and he’d have definitely returned here if he was okay, but . . . nothing. Delilah promised me my mom had an instant death, but it’s not like she’d tell me otherwise.”

“I am deeply sorry for your loss.” Ignis squeezed his hand. “There is nothing that I can say, except to offer my condolences, but I can assure you that we will do all we can to find the whereabouts of your father. Is this why you’ve been returning to your home?”

“Yes and no. I’ve – er – been going on runs each morning, anyway, so I figured just once a week . . . just for a change of pace . . . it wouldn’t hurt to stop by my old home, right? I’ve been babysitting for Delilah while she runs errands, helping out the others sorting through the rubble, sometimes I’ve done a bit of building or hunting, but . . . I _need_ to run and what difference just a change of route make, really? It’s all good, man.”

“I no longer thought you participated in morning runs.”

“Well, I didn’t,” admitted Prompto. “I was – ah – happy to leave the exercising and training to Noct and Gladio, but to be honest -? I’ve been gaining weight like crazy lately, so it’s been all I can do just to keep it down. I know Noct’s a good guy, but I just keep thinking back to when we were at school! I was so ashamed to even speak to him, because he was this cool prince and I was just this . . . overweight loner. I don’t want to be that way again!”

Ignis said nothing. Prompto moved his free hand to his stomach, where he pulled at the red fabric of his tank top to expose a sliver of stomach, and – as he touched upon the pale skin – he realised that there was a roundness there that was lacking before. He ran his hand in circles, until he pulled it away with a sigh and dropped it between his legs. There was a silence between them, until Ignis squeezed at his hand and nudged him with his shoulder, and Prompto looked to him with a nervous smile. Ignis asked with a stoic expression:

“You are not pregnant, are you?”

“What?” Prompto asked. “No. No! Of course, I’m not!”

Prompto held tight to Ignis’ hand; he threw his other hand into the air, with a gesture of surrender that the other likely missed, and he blinked away his surprise. There was a faint smile upon Ignis’ lips, while an eyebrow quirked as if in doubt. The noises outside grew a little as the day grew on, so that Prompto heard children laughing and a ball being kicked around, and he nearly grew distracted until Ignis broke the silence one more time.

“Are you certain?”

“Well, I hope so,” muttered Prompto. “I ran like three pregnancy tests. That’s enough, right? I even saw a doctor in the Citadel; they told me he usually only sees royalty, but I got permission for him to check me out, and he did this whole ultrasound thing. Apparently I have the healthiest insides he’s ever seen! No baby, though.”

“So your weight gain is -?”

“A combination of stress and bad eating habits.” Prompto shrugged. “He also thinks that the weight gain’s not as bad as I think, but it’s – well – kind of hard to get in with a counsellor when everything’s in total chaos. I just got to eat right and exercise! I did it properly the first time around, so I can do it right this time around too. I know I can.”

“It will be easier this time with support. If you will allow me, I would be happy to take charge of your regular meals. I will have words with Gladio, as I am sure he would be most amicable to allowing you to train alongside him. You are not alone, Prompto.”

“Thanks, that means more than you know.”

Prompto smiled and blinked away tears. The remains of the house were barely recognisable, but – if he closed his eyes – he could almost hear his parents’ laughter and catch the scent of fast food upon the table, and he wondered what they would make of his situation. There was an open barbeque at the end of the street, where survivors would congregate each day to take part in shared meals, and Prompto admired the sense of community and the ability to help one another, and he relished in the scents that drifted along the breeze. He asked quietly:

“Do you know the weird thing?”

“What is that?” Ignis asked.

“I’m a little disappointed I’m not pregnant.”

The wind picked up a little. He remembered Noct’s constant complaints on the road, whether it be too hot or too cold, and he missed the sense of brotherhood they had when they travelled far and wide across the continent. Ignis hummed in thought, while Prompto swung out his legs and kicked childishly upon the dirt. He drew patterns and words with the point of his boots. Ignis quirked his head in the direction of the sound and said:

“I am a little surprised to hear that.”

“Yeah, me too,” murmured Prompto. “I guess it sounds stupid.”

“Not at all. You have lost your house and your parents, as such it is easy to feel disconnected to the world around you and long for stability in life. I suppose a baby does represent both a home and a family, which most of us crave in these circumstances, and you do have more than enough love to give a child. Still, I would suggest this to be good news.”

“Oh, yeah, I know that logically, but it’s different in here, you know?” Prompto touched his chest with a sad smile. “Did you – ah – ever think about kids in the future? Not now, I know, but like way into the future sometime? You seem like you’d be good with kids.”

“Well, I’m not _totally_ averse to the idea.” Ignis traced a pattern upon Prompto’s palm. “I actually gave the thought to the idea that _I_ might carry the child, however, particularly given that my condition often leaves me unable to do many physical activities that I once gave little thought toward. I would not lose anything during the confinement period, whereas you would have to sacrifice beloved activities such as your photography and exercises.”

“You – You would – er – wouldn’t mind – ah –”

“I have never given much thought to the outdated idea that ‘receiving’ somehow makes one less of a man. Those stigmas belong long in the past. Besides, I can safely assume that you have only ever received during the act of intercourse? You said that what happened between you and Noct was a one-time occurrence, and to fear pregnancy . . .?”

Prompto fought the urge to pull away. He hung his head and tried to hide his blush from the blind man, and – with a groan – he realised how pointless it was to try and hide from a person that couldn’t see. There followed memories of their time sharing beds or tents, or the few times he would drive only for Ignis to click his fingers and point at the road when his eyes strayed, or any of the numerous strange intimacies that likely meant nothing to an outsider and yet meant the world to him. This somehow seemed to cross a line. Prompto murmured:

“Er, yeah, is that a bad thing?”

“By no means.” Ignis smiled. “I simply meant to say that I have only ever acted in a ‘giving’ role during intercourse, as such – when we feel ready to consummate our relationship – we could allow ourselves a change of roles. It would be a first for the both of us. I quite like the idea of losing my virginity, at least in a sense, to the man I so adore.”

“I – well – that is – okay, so -?” Prompto buried his face into his free hand. “You know, how is this so much more embarrassing than usual? Like, I could flirt with girls no problem, but you say those things and it kind of makes me both . . . hard and terrified.”

“I apologise. In this place, I am only equipped to deal with the latter.”

“Okay, see, _that_ kind of flirtation only makes it worse.”

Ignis laughed. It was a loud and throaty sound, which brought a smile to Prompto’s lips, and – as he looked to the other man – he felt a familiar squeeze around his hand. Ignis threw back his shoulders and rolled them, as if working out a kink, and it was clear he was ready to move from the uncomfortable wall and make his way back to the car. They sat in quiet, simply listening to the sounds from the neighbourhood, until Prompto realised that it was time to let go of the past and move forward. He let go of Ignis’ hand and stood tall.

“Can I . . . have a moment alone?”

“Of course,” said Ignis. “I will wait for you in the car.”

Ignis nodded his head to Prompto; he stood with slow and steady movements, with a hand outstretched in search of some purchase, and his cane came out to sweep across the floor before him. He walked with relative ease out of the remains of the house, until he came to the car and slid into the backseat. The windows were drawn high, while Ignis would also be unable to see him from that distance, and it gave a sense of privacy at last.

Prompto swallowed hard. He drew in a staggered breath and walked to the bedroom; the iron frame of the bed was a solid reminder of the loss of his parents, one who hopefully died in their sleep and one whose whereabouts were unknown, and he knew they would never see the man he had become. Prompto pulled out the photograph, only to slide it onto one of the bars of the bed, and – as he whispered a final goodbye – he tried to fight back the wish to have spent more time with them. Time was all they had and it was wasted.

Prompto wept.


	5. Chapter Five

“Hey, I thought I said I’d cook?”

Gladio stepped toward the stove. He took long and slow strides, but kept his distance from Ignis while the other man worked. There must have been a good few feet between them; Ignis had used his hands to navigate the kitchenette, memorising every item and every placement, and – even without his sight – he managed to slice-and-dice ingredients with absolute precision. There wasn’t a single spill or any accidents. He worked as an expert.

Prompto leaned against the counter to Ignis’ right, while he watched the other man work. The marble countertop was cool to the touch, and the height was just perfect to half-sit upon, and yet – as he made to make himself more comfortable – a spoon swatted him lightly upon his buttocks and Ignis turned his head to mock-glare at him. He stood upright with a pout, but Ignis simply grunted and returned to the meal before him. Gladio chuckled and smirked to Prompto with a shake of his head. Prompto spat his tongue out.

“Will you two _quite_ behave?” Ignis asked.

“Hey, he started it,” muttered Prompto.

“Me? No way,” said Gladio with a smile. “Would I do a thing like that? Besides, _you’re_ the one putting your butt on a cooking counter. I’m no expert, but ain’t that kind of unhygienic? Not surprised you got a spanking. Naughty kids got to learn to behave.”

“I’ll be giving you both a ‘whooping’ in a moment,” threatened Ignis.

“All I did was ask why you’re cooking. You’re the guest.”

Ignis grunted. The shared kitchen was usually divided by assigned time-slots, something that made living in the Crownsguard a little easier for all, and – until appropriate accommodation became available – it was an arrangement fraught with compromise. Gladio often gave his time to Ignis with little reason other than selflessness, but today he intended to use that time to cook for his two friends. Prompto smiled and reached out for one of the crabs upon the countertop, which felt clammy and cold to the touch. He held it between two hands.

“Aw, don’t tease Ignis,” said Prompto. “He gets a little _crabby_.”

He made the crab dance a little, until Ignis slammed down his knife. The older man turned with his hand outstretched and palm pointed up, while he quirked an eyebrow at Prompto, and Prompto – with an embarrassed chuckle – handed the crab to him. It was dropped into a boiling pot with a harsh gesture, while Gladio watched the two of them with a soft eye. Prompto wavered back and forth, unable to stand still, until Ignis said in a firm voice:

“Do _not_ play with the food.”

“I don’t think it’s food if it’s still alive,” observed Gladio.

“Look, _both of you_ ,” said Ignis, “I am well aware that we were invited here as guests, but I do not wish to subject my digestive tract to ready-made noodles and bottled beer. Those things may be nice for an occasional treat, but I did assure Prompto that I would create a healthy and balanced meal plan for him, and I would rather keep my promise, thank you very much.”

“Hey, you make it sound like I’m a lousy cook.” Gladio placed a hand upon his hip. “I wanted to do something good for my friends, so at least give me _something_ to do, even this one gets to set the table. What do I have? Make a guy feel useful.”

“Why not entertain the chef while he cooks?”

“The most important job of all,” chirped Prompto. “Can you believe it’s been two months since we came back to Insomnia? I wish I’d complained about my weight from the start. It’s _so_ much better to get proper home-cooked meals than what they serve in the cafeteria, although it’d be better if Noct could join us. Where is Noct, anyway?”

Gladio shrugged and looked over to the kitchen rota. Prompto followed his gaze, but soon became distracted when Gladio hissed through his nose. The muscled man moved over to the small table, which – with many opting to use the cafeteria over the kitchen – was tiny to be as cost-efficient as possible, and played with the saltcellar in a distracted manner. Prompto pursed his lips and cocked his head to the side, as he watched Gladio’s previous humour be reduced to a stoic concentration. He seemed focussed upon the tabletop.

“That’s the thing,” admitted Gladio. “I wanted to talk to you guys alone.”

Prompto clasped his hands behind his neck, as he walked over to sit opposite his friend. It was strange to be semi-alone with Gladio, even after the past four weeks of intense training each morning, and he wondered whether things would always be awkward between them. He smiled and reached down to fiddle with the camera that dangled from his neck, where he busied himself with adjusting the settings and avoiding eye contact. He asked kindly:

“What’s up, Big Guy?”

“You guys are a cute couple, you know that?”

“We’re – We’re not – We’re not a couple,” stuttered Prompto. “I mean, I’d totally be up for being a couple, but . . . well . . . we kind of agreed to revisit that discussion later on. I – er – would totally have to talk to Ignis first, and – hey – how’s it going between you and Noct? I noticed Noct seems to be coming out of his shell a bit! That’s good, right?”

“Whoa there,” said Gladio. “You two ain’t a couple?”

“Well,” replied Ignis, “ _I_ – for one – certainly thought that we were.”

There was a sharp sound of cutlery being put down. Ignis turned around with folded arms, as he leaned back against the counter and crossed his legs at the ankles, and – as he quirked his head in their direction – he angled his head in their direction. Prompto blinked away his surprise and furrowed his brow, while his mouth opened and closed in a continuous manner, until he found his voice and managed to choke out in a quiet manner:

“Huh? You – ah – never exactly asked me out.”

“I didn’t think I needed to,” said Ignis.

“You – You said we’d have to talk about things,” muttered Prompto. “Back when we were still on the way to Insomnia; you said you weren’t totally closed off to the idea, but you thought it was something to talk about later on. We didn’t have that conversation, did we? Oh God, did I forget the conversation? I’m so sorry! I – I must have been –”

“No, you didn’t forget. I did express a wish to explore our relationship, however, to which you replied in the affirmative. I had assumed it apparent that we were to begin something more romantic and engage in a serious relationship. Did I make that unclear?”

“Kind of?” Prompto scratched at his neck. “I thought you just meant that in a – you know – hypothetical kind of way? I guess it makes sense. I mean I didn’t want to ask in case it seemed kind of . . . stupid. Then it just gets to a point where asking is kind of weird, because too much time’s passed, and I _loved_ the past two months – they’ve been the best in my life – only I didn’t want to presume, because it’d kill me if you weren’t into me, you know?”

“Ah, and they accuse _me_ of needing absolute clarity in all things. I can honestly say that I have never held hands or discussed the issue of children with platonic friends, as such I am surprised that you would have any doubts as to my intent. In future, I will be sure to make my intentions much more explicit. We wouldn’t want any _more_ confusion.”

“Kid’s always had low self-esteem,” observed Gladio. “It makes sense he wouldn’t believe a guy like you could be into him, although – I got to say – you ain’t got anything to worry about, kiddo. You’re a good man and a good soul. Trust me.”

“T-Thanks, I think?” Prompto questioned. “I mean . . .”

He sighed and dropped his head to his chest. There was something embarrassing about having dated for the past month or more, only to not realise until it was pointed out, and he blushed a deep red as Ignis plated the food. Gladio chuckled to himself, as he leaned on the back two legs of his chair. His rough and callused hands clasped over his stomach, while he looked up at the kitchen ceiling with a smirk, and Prompto groaned once again.

They remained quiet, as Ignis brought over the plated food. He took a seat between them, but – much to Prompto’s relief – took his hand and squeezed with a smile, and Prompto could only squeeze back and felt his eyes water with emotion. Ignis let go only to eat his food, but Prompto would glance to him at every other bite. The only sounds were those of his twitching leg and Gladio’s loud attempts to break apart the crab’s shell, and Ignis appeared to ignore both of them in his quest for a comfortable meal.

It tasted good; Prompto picked up a hint of carrot, which brought a smile to his face, and he realised that Ignis had included the vegetable he craved after so long of it being forbidden in any dish or recipe or even the _mention_ in a conversation. His mouth watered, while he ate with great speed, and he noticed how hungrily Gladio made progress through his large portions, as if it were the last meal he might ever eat. Prompto asked:

“So why’d you not invite Noctis?”

“I wanted some advice from you two first,” said Gladio.

“Sure thing,” chirped Prompto. “What’s up?”

“Well, I’m pregnant for one thing.”

Prompto choked upon his food. It took a few hard thumps from Ignis to unclog his throat, at which point he wiped away tears and gathered his breath. He blinked away his surprise and stared hard upon Gladio; the older man stabbed at his meal with great force, as he avoided looking within their direction and leaned a head upon his hand, and Prompto struggled to formulate a thought. Ignis hummed to himself, as he carefully placed down his cutlery and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. The silence was both awkward and profound.

“You – he – I –?” Prompto paled. “What?”

“I can assume that the father is Noctis,” observed Ignis.

“Yeah, Noct’s the dad.” Gladio shrugged. “I just found out today. They dated it around ten weeks; it’d be almost romantic if it weren’t for all the shit this’ll cause, because I’m _pretty_ sure that was our first time. That baby’s healthy, can’t tell me a gender, but I don’t have long to make a decision. If I choose to keep it, it’s not as though I can keep up my duties.”

“Wait,” said Prompto. “Why _wouldn’t_ you want to keep it?”

“How about a bunch of reasons?” Gladio leaned back and pushed away his plate. “A prince without a shield is a prince that’s left vulnerable. I can’t be a shield with such a chink in my armour, plus there’s the fact that the duty of the King’s Shield is passed down through the Amicitia line. So – yeah – our kid’s going to be his own shield? Not likely.”

“Well, there’s a solution to the latter,” observed Ignis. “If you were to have more children following this child, you could assign the Amicitia name to those that come after, and this child would carry the Caelum name as the firstborn. If that is not an option, you could always ask Iris whether she would be willing to carry the tradition in your place. In terms of being incapacitated in your role as Noctis’ bodyguard -? It’s only a temporary inconvenience.”

“Yeah, but how about the fact Noct was meant to marry a princess? How about the fact he’s still grieving for the woman he loved? They had this whole life planned. Yeah, maybe he’d have been ready in five or ten years, but is he going to be ready now? He’s only twenty.”

“You will not know his opinion until you ask him.”

“And if his opinion is a bad one?”

Ignis sighed. Prompto struggled to read his expression; he remained stoic and kept his head low, while he picked at his dinner with an absent interest, and Prompto could only look between the two older men with a silent curiosity. There wasn’t any sign of a pregnancy upon Gladio, although the Crownsguard uniform his hid stomach well, and he showed no signs of nausea or an increased appetite, which were all the symptoms Prompto knew to recognise. He focussed so strongly upon his friend that he jumped in surprise when Ignis spoke:

“You will always have our support.”

Gladio smiled and huffed in amusement. He seemed reassured, as he pulled his plate back towards him, but he continued to stab and play with his food, unable to take any further bites or endure another taste. Ignis said nothing, although he did reach for the bread bowl and placed it beside the muscled man with a nod in its direction. Gladio grunted and took a piece. There was an almost comfortable silence, until Prompto chirped:

“Yeah, we’re here for you, Big Guy!”

“Although, you will have to tell Noct either way,” said Ignis.

“Even if he gets rid of it?” Prompto blinked in surprise. “I don’t know. If that were me, I’d not want to know that someone had gotten rid of my kid. I mean I know it’s not _really_ a kid at this stage, but it _feels_ like a kid, you know? I’d keep playing it in my mind, like whether I’d have made a good pops or how old they’d be . . . I’d just rather not know.”

“Yes, but there’s also the issue of _trust_. Noctis may not get a say in this decision, but he has a right to be aware of such a life-changing choice and offer forth an opinion. If they are to keep secrets at this early a stage, it will only cause vast resentment much later on.”

“I’ll tell him,” muttered Gladio. “I just wanted your opinions first.”

“Well, I say keep it,” chirped Prompto. “Right?”

Ignis tented his fingers, as he rested his elbows upon the table. Those fingertips touched upon his lips, while he angled his head downward, and those eyes – often open despite the lack of sight – closed behind his darkened glasses. Prompto watched him with an intent gaze, curious about what was behind those eyes, and all that came in response was a long hiss of breath. There was a moment of silence, until Ignis clasped his hands together and hid his mouth from sight, and then he spoke with a somewhat terse tone and slow rhythm.

“Alas, it’s not as easy as that,” said Ignis.

“So you’d – er – abort if it was you?” Prompto furrowed his brow. “I know things are difficult right now, but aren’t we all in the same boat? We’ve all got our traumas. We’ve all lost our homes and our families. It’s not as though there wouldn’t be a _huge_ amount of support, and I’d totally be happy to baby-sit! I’ll even take over as bodyguard for a while!”

“Yes, but neither of us as in a relationship with a prince. It is typically unusual for a queen or prince consort to engage in active duties as a bodyguard, or any sort of duties aside from the royal, and I cannot see Gladio content to play parent and husband alone.”

“Yeah, but doesn’t that assume they’ll get married?”

“There would be great political difficulty were they to do otherwise,” said Ignis. “It could open the door to their child or children to be accused of illegitimacy, which – in the very worst case – could lead to civil war as those involved fight for the throne. If the child is branded a ‘bastard’, any children from a legitimate union could be argued to have a superior claim, even should they be borne of Gladio and Noctis later during an eventual marriage . . .

“It is likely that Gladio and Noct shall be pushed to marry. If Gladio refuses, which is well within his rights, it would only cause further complications. A prince or princess would need to be raised within the Citadel, as they would be heir apparent, and Gladio may lose some of his rights _to_ said child in that process. It is far from an easy decision.”

“Isn’t there more to consider than just the practical?” Prompto asked. “I mean what about the whole moral and ethic side to stuff? Or what about the emotional attachment? Or what if he ends up regretting his decision? Plus, it’s a _life_ , you know? Like . . . alive.”

“At the moment, it is a mere collection of cells. Nothing more.”

Gladio rolled his eyes and stood. He took his plate in one hand and walked over to the bin, where he scraped the remains away and tossed his plate into the sink, and – as Prompto watched him – he fought the urge to criticise the fact food was hard to come by, even as he remembered how most others stored leftovers for later. Gladio leaned back upon the counter and looked between the two of them, as he muttered with a smile:

“Gee, I’m glad I have you two to help.”

Ignis grunted and collected the remaining plates; it was remarkable how he balanced them with an expertise that Prompto envied, even more so how he glided across the floor toward Gladio without even a hint of a stumble or moment of hesitation. Gladio took the plates from him and helped him in clearing up. There was nothing but the sound of clattering cutlery and the scraping of scraps, while Prompto stretched out and yawned, simply glad not to be engaged in chores for once. He turned his head and asked kindly:

“Well, do you know what you want to do?”

“Honestly? I’m torn right down the middle.” Gladio ran a hand over his face and smiled. “Trust you two to make things even more confusing. Don’t worry; I’ll talk to Noct. Who knows, maybe he can help make the decision a little easier? Worth a shot.”

“In the meantime,” teased Ignis, “we can always talk baby names.”

“I like ‘Prompto’,” joked Prompto. “‘Prompto’ sounds good.”

“You two can bite me,” laughed Gladio.

They remained in a companionable silence. Ignis washed at the dishes, with the sound of running water echoing about the large kitchen, while Prompto hummed an old tune to himself, as he thought back to shared meals around the campfire. Gladio grunted and slapped his hands against the counter, before he pushed himself away and walked with a slouch back to the dining table. He threw himself down into his chair and said in a sincere voice:

“Thanks, guys.”


	6. Side-Chapter

**Sword and Shield**

Noct stood alone.

The ocean spray covered him in a fine mist. He looked out over the waters of Galdin Quay, as he leaned upon the railing with his forearms, and – if Gladio didn’t know any better – it would be easy to say he looked at peace. There were few signs to betray that image; his Crownsguard uniform was torn and stained in places, while there were one or two scars on tanned skin that weren’t there at the start of their journey, and his expression was stoic.

Gladio walked along the decking to stand beside his friend; Noct made no sign of noticing his presence, but the muscles upon his shoulders tensed and his lips pursed into a fine line. He held a photograph in hand. It was impossible to see the image, as the back was faced upright, but Gladio cast a curious eye to the paper and made a mental note to ask Prompto later, and – as he looked – Noctis eventually hissed a long exhale of breath. He turned his back to the ocean, and instead looked up to the cloudy skies that slowly turned red with the sunset.

“Still can’t get used to being out at night,” observed Noctis.

The sunset was beautiful. Gladio looked out over to the camp far along the beach, where he could about make out their friends cooking around the portable stove and taking photographs every few seconds, and the sky turned from orange to red to a dark blue. It was rare in the past to look at the stars without worry, but now he waited eagerly for the darkness to come and for the moon to make its appearance. Gladio grunted and smiled. He leaned back upon the railing in turn and nudged Noctis with his shoulder, as he took in the sights.

“You get used to it,” muttered Gladio.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’ll never get used to it.”

“Not with an attitude like that.” Gladio angled his body to face Noctis. “Hey, Iggy suggested I come check on you. I told him I ain’t exactly the best guy for this kind of mushy stuff, but we’re cool, right? You know you can come to me with anything major.”

“Because that worked out _so_ well the last time.” Noctis smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “I know you mean well, but it’s hard to come to you for this kind of stuff. You lost your dad and you lost your home, and I know it pisses you off when I get all mopey about Luna, but – I promise – I haven’t forgotten my duty, I just . . . I just need some time. I know we have to go back to the Citadel, but with Ardyn and the Daemons gone -? Can we just have a few days?”

“The plan was to go to Hammerhead soon. It doesn’t make sense to stay here; we can’t afford the hotel without taking on a bunch of hunts, and we sure as heck can’t afford to eat in the restaurant. If you need a few days, we can do that, but we can’t take any more time off _here_ , you hear me? Besides, you need to move on. Can’t grieve forever.”

“I know that! I know I can’t grieve forever, but it still hurts!”

Noctis held tight onto the photograph. The paper crinkled and crunched under his hold, until he shoved it deep into his pocket, and – as he moved – Gladio caught sight of what looked to be Luna’s wedding dress on display in Altissia. He resisted the urge to comment, and instead looked back in the direction of the camp. It was growing colder now autumn had struck. Gladio adjusted his tank top and grunted, uncomfortable with too much material, and he looked to Noctis who could only stare down at the decking without so much as a smile.

“You have to let go,” said Gladio.

There was a lingering silence, as Noctis shrugged in response. Gladio heard the laughter of tourists upon the beach, as well as cars pulling into the lot, and life around them seemed to go on without any knowledge of how close they all came to total obliteration. Noctis gnawed at his lip, while his fingers fidgeted around the railing, but soon his hands stilled and he looked to Gladio with a furrowed brow and blush that spoke volumes of shame.

“I slept with someone,” whispered Noct. “A while back.”

“Well, can’t stay a virgin forever, either.”

“I was _supposed_ to give it up to Luna. It feels like I cheated on her; I just wanted to feel loved and needed, to forget all the pain for just a few minutes, and – for a while – it was like none of this shit ever happened, like I could pretend everything was okay. I just didn’t account for how I’d feel when I was done. I feel dirty and used and like I used someone else. I hate it.”

“Luna’s gone, Noct. You think she’d want you to stay stuck on her? It’s not like you can only love one person or only be attracted to one person. You can be with someone else and it won’t invalidate what you two had; you’ll just be sharing your love, not dividing it.”

“You don’t get it.” Noctis ran a hand through his hair. “I see some woman in the crowd and I think it’s her. I go to sleep and I see her in my dreams. I – I found someone that looked like her, that I felt attracted to, and I – I had to bite my lip just to keep from calling _her_ name. It’s like I was supposed to die that day I touched the Crystal; I fought Ardyn, I defeated Ardyn, but I should have _stayed_ in that realm, only the Crystal spat me back out.”

Gladio clenched his fists and drew in a sharp breath. He fought the urge to strike out, even as his heart raced within his chest and his eyes narrowed into slits, and he couldn’t help but use both height and weight to his advantage, as he rounded upon Noctis The younger man looked lost in despair, as if he truly believed it would have been better to die than live. He jabbed his finger into Noctis’ chest, knocking him back a step, and cornered him against the railing until there was nowhere left for Noctis to turn. He leaned his head in close and spat:

“Don’t. Don’t you fucking say that.”

Noctis rolled his eyes. He pushed past Gladio, only to walk in small circles back-and-forth, and he raised a hand to his hair on every other step. He looked distracted. He looked confused. Gladio controlled his breathing, desperate to hold onto his last ounce of self-control, but he saw the tears in Noctis’ eyes and felt the tension in his muscles lessen. He let his arms fall slack and ran a tongue over his lips. Noctis broke the silence with a whispered:

“I was supposed to die that day.”

There was a brief silence, where the only sounds were those around them. Gladio heard his heart pound within his ears, while he struggled to focus his eyes, and – as Noctis blinked away tears – he felt every instinct in his body scream to help his prince. Noctis looked to him with a hopeful gaze, before his tentative smile turned into a frown. He walked away. Gladio reached out, but pulled back his hand at the last minute. He shook his fists and paced as Noct had done, only to curse under his breath and snatch out for Noctis’ arm.

Noctis was swung around. Gladio caught him and held him by his upper arms, pulling him close until they were chest-to-chest, and – as both breathed heavily – he looked down into blue eyes with a curious and hungry gaze. He kissed Noct. It happened too quickly to process, but he leaned down to press his lips to his prince’s, and coaxed them apart until he tasted a hint of honey from an earlier dessert. Noct pulled away with a gasp of breath.

“Shit,” muttered Gladio. “I can’t believe I’m jealous of a dead woman.”

Gladio tried to pull him back for another kiss, only to feel two firm hands press against his chest. Noctis shook his head and stepped back. The sky was nearly dark, enough that an instinctual fear overtook Gladio despite his ability to reason, and – for a brief second – he wondered whether that same fear was what stopped Noctis from reciprocation. He stepped forward with a smirk, only for his prince to raise an arm and signal for distance. There was a good three feet of space between them. Noctis looked flustered, as he muttered:

“I – I need time to think.”

“Noct?”

“Please,” begged Noctis. “I need some time.”

The two men stood in an uncomfortable silence. Gladio raised a hand and opened his mouth, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but already Noctis was half-running back to camp, as if desperate to get away and out of sight. He watched as the prince headed away from him, only to bitterly kick himself for having put Noctis in such an awkward situation. He turned and punched hard upon the railing, where he heard the wood crack and splinter.

“ _Fuck_ ,” cursed Gladio.

* * *

“Time to say goodbye, Noct.”

Gladio slapped a hand upon Noct’s back. The prince staggered a little, but turned with a smile upon his lips and nodded in acknowledgement. There was a faint glow from the campfire, as the dying embers clung to life in the dawn, and there was gentle warmth that comforted both men even as they resigned themselves to departure. Gladio listened to the waves crash against the shore, while their companions laughed and joked in the distance by the car.

He saw Ignis and Prompto side by side.

They stood just before a black car similar in style to the Regalia, while Prompto gestured and signalled to parts with a clumsy memory, and Ignis – who could not see such gestures – humoured him with nods and smiles and equal gesticulations. It wouldn’t be long before Gladio and Noct would be expected back, along with the last of the camping equipment, and their timetable was too strict to ignore. Gladio cricked his neck and hissed in breath.

Noct wore a white t-shirt underneath a fashionable jacket, and – despite the tension between them – he couldn’t help but admire the svelte frame and toned muscles. He watched as Noct bent down to pick up a few stray pieces, while the rising sun caught at his face and cast shadows about his features, and Gladio raised an eyebrow in appreciation. The temperature was starting to cool down with the autumn months, enough that he wondered whether he could be excused for keeping close to Noct at night for ‘warmth’. He smirked with a grunt.

“Do we have time for one more goodbye?” Noct asked.

Gladio blinked away his surprise, as he came back around to reality. He looked to Noct and saw the younger man at the edge of the campground, where his hand removed the same photograph from earlier out of his pocket, and – as he lifted it for a closer look – Gladio caught familiar cursive writing upon the back. It looked almost like Noctis had written out a message during the night, perhaps under the glow of the campfire, and Gladio resisted the urge to ask why he gave into sudden sentimentality, as he came to stand beside him.

He grasped Noct’s shoulder. Noct smiled into the touch, looking to him with a brief glance, and Gladio smirked in response, as he held tighter and let his hand linger. They stood in silence for a few minutes, while the birds above cawed and the stray cat from the restaurant mewled from the beach, and the sun rose ever higher in a beautiful array of colours. Gladio looked to the photograph of Luna’s dress and asked in a calm voice:

“What’s that?”

“It’s time to let go,” said Noct. “This is what she would have wore on our wedding day. I – I can’t keep looking back and wondering what might have been, because the reality is that the only way we’ll be together is in dreams and fantasies. I’ll see her again one day, but for now I need to move forward and live my life . . . Luna would want me to _live_.”

“You know she wrote to Prompto once?” Gladio asked with an absent gaze. “He told me a while back; turns out he rescued a pup of hers, she’s the one who asked him to keep an eye on you, which inspired him to lose weight. He was desperate to thank her in person.”

“Huh, no kidding? I knew he wanted to see her, but he never told me the reason. I think they’d have liked one another; they were both so passionate about life, so loyal and kind, and every time I look at him I see her smile and hear her laughter. I think it’s a sign. I need to stop looking for her, instead I need to let her go, and I took Ignis’ advice . . . I wrote her a goodbye letter. I figured I’d bury it here, where our lives changed forever.”

“Is that why the guys have given you space? To say goodbye?”

“I didn’t want it to be this ‘thing’.”

Gladio grunted and watched Noctis head onto the sands. He followed a few feet behind, keeping enough distance to give the illusion of space, and watched as Noctis knelt down to dig a small hole with his hands. Gladio crouched beside him; he placed his weight on the backs of his heels, while he braced his forearms upon his knees, and watched as Noctis placed the photograph face-up within the small hole. There was a smile upon his lips. He reached down to gently trace his fingers over the image with a staggered sigh.

“Luna was lucky to have you,” said Gladio.

Noctis pulled his hand back, as he blinked away tears. The sun rose above the horizon, as the sky turned a beautiful shade of blue, and Gladio felt the same relief that came every morning, as he realised how close they came to eternal darkness. Noctis whispered a few words. He touched the spot with a smile, before he placed a smooth stone and blue feather on top of the makeshift grave, and said ‘goodbye’ for the first time in those few months since her death.

They stood and kept a relative silence. Gladio chanced a glance to their friends; Prompto had his hand low on Ignis’ back, as he helped guide him over to the benches that overlooked the ocean, and he knew that the blind man would appreciate the soothing sounds. They appeared intimate in a way that was enviable, while Prompto fidgeted with his camera and snapped shots that Ignis would never see, and Gladio chuckled at the sight. He turned to Noctis and smiled, happy to see an expression of peace finally upon his friend.

“What about us?” Gladio asked.

“What _about_ us?” Noctis repeated. “Do we even want the same things?”

“Don’t know. You tell me.” Gladio shrugged and looked away. “I know I want to keep things casual right now; never have been one for serious relationships, especially when I could die at any moment in battle, because – let’s face it – it wouldn’t be right to leave a girl or guy behind waiting for me to come back like that. Never look too far ahead, you know?”

“No, not really. Honestly -? I kind of _want_ something long-term. I always dreamed of the big wedding and the honeymoon and the children . . . even dreamt of the grandchildren and retirement, as if a king even _can_ retire. I never really considered my sexuality. I never even considered a life without Luna. I don’t mind exploring my options, but I also kind of _don’t_ want something long-term, because what’s the point without her?”

“Hey, if you want to explore your options, I’m cool with that,” chirped Gladio. “We can keep things open. We can keep things physical. Fuck, we can even do both. You got to know what you want, though, because otherwise we’re just going to get hurt.”

“What if we just take it slow? See where it goes?”

Gladio looked to Noct and saw confusion. Those black eyebrows were furrowed and knotted, while his teeth bore down upon his lip with great force, and he knew that sense of conflict would eat at Noct until he resolved his emotions. Gladio moved to stand before Noct; the sun shone behind him and likely made it difficult for Noct to see, and yet he allowed the sun to burn at his back and warm his skin. He listened to the sound of the waves behind them, while he considered what he was to say next, and when he spoke it was slow and firm:

“It can only go so far, kiddo.”

Noct rolled his eyes and took a step back, as he placed a hand upon his hip. He looked down at the sands and moved from foot to foot, clearly fighting back an urge to argue, and yet when he looked back to Gladio there was clear tension and anger, which translated into a burning passion that triggered a spark of arousal in Gladio. Gladio licked at his lips and fought back the urge to grab Noct, even as Noct stepped forward with a dangerous smirk.

“So – what – you _never_ want to get married?”

“Not really.” Gladio shrugged. “If we get on and want to make it long-term, I’m up for that and I’m cool with us being a couple. I just don’t see much point in making official what we already know in our hearts, and for what -? So a bunch of people can tell us that our relationship’s now legit? Seems a load of bullshit to me. I don’t see the point.”

“You know, for _you_ that’s almost romantic.” Noctis playfully elbowed him and dodged out the way of an oncoming shove. “Seriously, though, won’t it hurt us more to fool around only to break it off – what – days, weeks, _months_ down the road, because we want different stuff?”

“So we don’t get too attached. Friends with benefits, that’s all.”

“Sure, I can do that,” promised Noctis.

Noct looked Gladio up and down, before he folded his arms and shrugged. The gesture was casual, but the pupils in his eyes were blown and his eyes were half-lidded, and Gladio – knowing his prince better than he knew himself – knew that what he wanted more than anything was to forget the past. Gladio stepped closer, until they were chest to chest, and he chuckled to himself when Noct craned his head upward with a smirk. Noct asked:

“Want to get two rooms in Hammerhead?”

The waves crashed behind them. Gladio swallowed to wet his mouth, as he licked his lips and glanced back to the car, and – as he looked – he noticed Prompto and Ignis had taken their usual spots and were waiting for their return. Prompto even waved with an innocent gesture, as if the close proximity between the two of them were normal. He felt his member strain within his trousers, while Noct stared him down with a confident expression, and he knew Noct would regret this just as he regretted his past liaison. Gladio didn’t care. He pointed out:

“There’s only the one caravan, remember?”

“So when do we get time alone?”

“I know a few places,” teased Gladio. “If all else fails, I think I can convince Ignis to give us some alone time, and it won’t be that hard to get Prompto to go with him. If we leave now, I can probably guarantee us the afternoon alone together. I’ll get Ignis to ring when he’s on the way back. We won’t have to worry about getting caught. What do you say?”

Noctis reached out to grip at his bicep. It looked platonic from a distance, but Prompto would be unable to see how soft was the touch or how his thumb rubbed at the muscle, and he wouldn’t see the half-smile and sideways glance. Gladio growled deep in his throat, as he fought the urge to reach out and take Noctis then and there. He watched as Noctis walked away, with a few conspicuous glances back to him, and smiled to hear Noct say:

“Sure. Let’s do it.”

* * *

Gladio bit into his fist.

It did little to stifle his groan; he braced his weight upon the outer wall, his forearm sticking the metal with a heavy sweat, while the cool air brushed over his bare skin. He felt his jeans bunched around his knees. They restricted his movement, but it was hard to complain when agile hands traced patterns over his naked back and chest. Noctis paid close attention to his nipples, tweaking and flicking with a serious expertise, and Gladio’s eyes rolled back.

Noctis paused from inside him. The younger man was still fully clothed, only exposing enough of himself to get the job done, and already he panted heavily for breath upon Gladio’s shoulder, whispering curses and doing all in his power to prevent from coming too soon. He might not have been particularly impressive where it counted, but he knew how to use what he had and he used it well. Noctis appeared to map out Gladio’s body. He memorised the angle needed to strike his prostate, or his erogenous spots, and even the words that turned him on.

There was laughter from inside the café, while traders and mechanics walked to and fro in the lot, and Gladio grew nervous someone would come around back and find them, yet that realisation only added to the arousal and adrenaline. He reached down to take a hold of his member; Noctis slapped his hand away, only to take his erect length in hand, and soon he was pumping and twisting in a way that drew deep moans from Gladio.

“Shit,” muttered Noctis. “We’ll get caught.”

He dipped his thumb into the slit, while his other hand manipulated his nipple. Gladio bit into his lip to hold back gasps and groans, enough that he soon tasted the iron of blood, and the stench of sweat hung heavy in the air as Noct began to thrust afresh. Gladio felt brown hair slick to his skull, as his eyes dilated and his body grew increasingly warm. The pleasure boiled inside his stomach, building ever higher, until his body grew weak and his head felt light, and there was a dull ache in his behind from being improperly prepared.

The mixture of pain with pleasure was more than he could bear. He clenched around Noct’s length, desperate to coax him into faster and harder thrusts, and Noct – overcome himself to the point of nearly coming – bit hard onto his shoulder and stilled once more. It was the kind of edging that he’d appreciate at any other time, but not when they could be found at any second by any number of strangers. Gladio clenched again with a curse.

“I ain’t going to break, Princess,” spat Gladio.

“Thanks for the head’s up,” gasped Noct.

Finally, Noct abandoned his desire to delay orgasm. He pounded into Gladio with such force that the sound of balls against buttocks echoed in his ears, while the slapping sensation drove Noct’s member deeper inside Gladio with every thrust. It stole his breath; he felt impossibly full, while the head hit the sweet spot every time, and the hand upon his member sped up to excess and drove him to the brink of ejaculation. Gladio panted for breath. He threw back his head and clawed at the wall with both hands, desperate for purchase.

“Come inside,” whispered Gladio. “Make me feel it.”

“You using protection?”

“N-No.” Gladio held back a cry. “ _No_. O-Okay, don’t – don’t – _fuck_!”

Noctis hand sped into a frenzied rhythm. He pounded hard a few more time deep inside, enough that Gladio reached his peak and could formulate no more words, and he couldn’t be sure that Noctis understood anything past his half-delirious plea to come inside him. Gladio threw both hands over his mouth. They barely held back what was practically a scream, something so primal and heavy that it tore at his throat and made him feel faint, and – as he came long and hard – there was an orgasmic rush of ecstasy unlike any other.

He clenched around Noctis. He threw back his head. The world grew white, as his insides fluttered and held tight and milked Noctis for all he was worth, and he struggled to breathe through the overwhelming sensations. Rope after rope of come landed upon his stomach, coating him with warm white liquid, and his body grew limp and tired and collapsed against the wall until all that held him upright were Noctis’ hands. He grew dizzy.

Noctis bit once more into his neck; he drew blood and gave a high-pitched keening sound, something barely muffled by his full mouth, and soon it was replaced by a choked gasp for breath and absolute silence from Noctis. He pulled Gladio flush against him. Gladio chuckled to himself as Noct shuddered and left bruises upon his sides, until there came a rush of warmth from within his body, and Gladio – always one to enjoy the sensation – was reminded why it was such a bad idea in this case. Gladio cursed and jerked his head.

“Was it – Was it good for you?” Noctis murmured.

Gladio hissed in discomfort, as Noctis pulled out. He waited a few seconds, while Noctis tucked himself away and adjusted his trousers, and winced as he stood upright. There was a deep ache to his lower back; he cricked his spine and stretched a few times, before he took a few tissues that Noctis offered and wiped at his behind. He noticed a few specks of blood. It was nothing major to indicate any damage, perhaps a couple spots at most, but he knew he would have to talk to Noctis about proper preparation later on in their relationship.

He pulled up his jeans and slid his deflating member into place; he cast surreptitious glances to his new lover, who blushed a shade of red so deep that Gladio worried he overheated, and he noticed how Noctis refused to make eye contact. Gladio laughed, amused by how shy Noctis could be after making love to him for the first time. He punched Noct playfully upon the shoulder, jostling the younger man back a few steps, and nodded at him with a smile.

“It was fucking amazing,” promised Gladio.

“What – What were you saying? You know, before we –”

“I ain’t been taking any protection.” Gladio shrugged with a grin. “I mostly been with women when I did hook up with anyone, and I take my duty as shield too seriously to fuck around when I’m meant to be in your vicinity at all times. Still, it was just one time. What are the chances? I’ll get some condoms for that small tackle tomorrow. It’s all good.”

“‘Small tackle’?” Noctis rolled his eyes. “Got some big cries for something so small.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Princess.”

Noctis shoved at him, getting another laugh from Gladio. They soon stood still and looked to one another with soft gazes, while they smiled aimlessly and simply took in one another’s appearances, and Gladio – still sore and struggling to stand straight – knew that he would be buying the condoms first chance that presented itself. It was too good to pass up. He licked his lips and made to ask for a second round, before Noct jumped and hissed in a panic:

“Someone’s coming, let’s get back to the caravan.”

Gladio followed with loud laughter.

* * *

“You fucked Prompto?” Gladio spat. “ _Prompto_?”

Noctis rolled his eyes. He sat at the caravan table, where he kept his hands clasped in front of him upon the cold plastic overlay, and – as he silently glared at Gladio – there was a flush to his cheeks that betrayed his stoic façade. The caravan was cool from the rain; Gladio could hear the raindrops pound upon the metal overhead, while the wind howled and whistled and rocked the dwelling from side-to-side. Noctis said in a firm voice:

“I _told_ you that I slept with someone else.”

“Yeah, but fucking Prompto?”

“What’s the big deal?” Noctis asked. “It was before we got together. You’re acting like I cheated on you or something; it was one-time on one day, and we never had any romantic feelings for one another. We haven’t so much as looked at each other that way since.”

Gladio paced back and forth. He looked out of the window to the parking lot outside, where people loitered around the petrol pumps for shelter and Cindy worked at the garage with little care for the rain, and – most poignantly – he noticed the lack of Ignis and Prompto. The car was gone, leaving him effectively stranded with Noctis until a driver was sent to them. It was likely unintentional on their part, but he was glad they were gone. He was angry.

The rain showed no sign of letting up, to the extent that he worried about his friends on the road, and he struggled to see outside of the blurred windowpanes. He leaned a forearm high upon one of the cabinets, as he looked anywhere but at Noctis. Those blue eyes bore a hole into his skull, as he tried to control his breathing and slow his heartbeat, but all the while adrenaline coursed through his body and tensed every muscle. He gritted his teeth and hissed a long exhale of breath, before he spun around and folded his arms. Gladio asked:

“Why Prompto?”

“What about him?” Noctis asked.

“Why _him_?” Gladio ran a hand over his face. “I know we didn’t get off on the right start; I didn’t like you, you didn’t like me, and we might not have been friends if it weren’t for you helping Iris out, but we shared _everything_ since then. We shared meals, conversations, and even fought together . . . I liked you, Noctis. I liked you a lot. The only reason I didn’t offer to hook up sooner was because you were prince. That’s all.”

“So you’re pissed I didn’t tell you, is that it? I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think it was that big a deal; Prompto has this _massive_ crush on Iggy, and – I don’t know – he was worried Iggy might not be into him if he found out. It was my idea to keep it secret.”

“That ain’t what I’m on about,” muttered Gladio. “Why him? Why not _me_? I wouldn’t have said no to you, Noct. I’d have given it up the minute you asked. We’ve fought over the past few months, sure, but I thought we were past all that. I nearly lost you. I swore I’d do anything to protect you and make you happy, but you went to _him_.”

“I – it –” Noctis sighed. “It wasn’t planned, Gladio.”

Noctis sighed and buried his head into his hands. He pulled way with a deep breath, as he looked to Gladio with half-narrowed eyes and lips pursed into a thin line. He said nothing, even as Gladio crossed his legs at the ankles and quirked his head up in a defiant gesture, and the silence between them was awkward and tense. There was a song on the radio, something like ‘Calling for Rain’, and the irony wasn’t lost upon Gladio. He bit at his lip and noticed a twinge on his stomach, one borne from a love bite. He looked away.

The memories of Noctis’ hands upon him – eyes focussed upon him, mouth opened into a blissful ‘O’, nails raking lines down his chest – were so vivid that he despised the very idea of anyone seeing his prince in that vulnerable and exposed state. Gladio huffed and reached out to turn the radio off, so that the only sounds came from the rain and the people outside, and he noticed the sky beyond the clouds slowly grow dark, as he muttered:

“I thought I was your first.”

“I never claimed to be a virgin,” muttered Noctis.

“No, you didn’t,” said Gladio in a cold voice. “I guess I assumed it was a girl, when you said they looked like Luna, and I thought I was your first guy. Hell, even if it were a guy, I figured the chances are they probably topped you and not the other way around. Plus, just _two weeks_ before we hooked up? Seriously? You made it sound like this was when Luna was alive! You said it felt like you were fucking cheating on her! Two weeks before we -?”

“Prompto was just _there_ , that’s all.” Noctis wrung his hands together. “We were lying next to each other, and we were just talking and crying, and one of us reached out to the other, and I don’t know . . . _I don’t know_. . . I just remember one thing leading to another. It felt good, and I hadn’t felt good in so long. I had sex with him. I’m sorry, okay?”

“You don’t have to be sorry about that. I’m just -! I’m pissed, okay? I’m pissed that you picked him and not me. I’m pissed that you couldn’t tell me. I’m pissed because you were in a bad space and he – what – took advantage of you when you were out of it?”

“No, if anything then I took advantage of him,” admitted Noctis.

“We’ve been doing this for a couple weeks now, right? You couldn’t tell me in all this time that you two hooked up one time?” Gladio closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “If you weren’t over Luna then, what changed in two weeks? What’s changed in the two weeks _since_ then? You still not over her? What am I . . . third choice over Luna and Prompto?”

Noctis stood. He pressed his fingertips hard against the plastic top of the table, as he leaned over without hunching his back in the slightest, and he projected a domineering and authoritative persona that made Gladio’s stomach roll with both fear and arousal. Gladio cursed, as Noctis glared at him with a deep and long stare. The way his heart raced caused him to feel nauseous and weak, even though he knew he could take Noctis in a fight, and he nearly stormed out into the rain with the sheer pressure. Noctis whispered:

“I thought you wanted to keep this casual?”

Gladio grunted and shrugged; he looked over Noctis and saw how his face began to change, with a few lines around the corners of his eyes and mouth, and how the war had aged him before his time. He would one day look like his father, but already he looked like a king. It was intimidating to see the spoiled boy evolve into this strong man, and Gladio looked away with a sharp stab of shame. He chewed at his lips and fought to find his voice.

“I was following your lead,” snapped Gladio.

“So – what – you want to be serious now? We can be serious.”

“Yeah, but there’s a problem with that.” Gladio heaved a long sigh. “You want the whole marriage and kids thing, and I just want someone to eat noodles with and spar with in the mornings. Your idea of serious and mine are two different things.”

“Look, if we’re not serious then why is this such a big deal?” Noctis slammed a hand upon the counter. “I can get my boyfriend or fiancé being annoyed, but a ‘friend with benefits’ shouldn’t get any say in my life. _You’re_ the one who referred to this as a ‘relationship’ to Ignis. _You’re_ the one that didn’t correct me when I said we were dating. If you ask me, the problem isn’t that I can’t move on . . . it’s that you can’t accept this is something real.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you’re right there. Look, I don’t know what this is, but I know what it’s not . . . what it’s not is an open relationship. I thought we agreed to that much. I don’t want to screw around with anyone but you, and I thought you wanted the same, and – yeah – the idea of another guy’s hands on you makes me want to rip them to shreds.”

“Okay, so why not put a label on this? We’re a couple.”

“Oh, you just get to decide that, Your Highness?”

Noctis smiled and pulled away from the table. He walked over to Gladio and stood opposite him; the gap between them was small, as the kitchenette was opposite the door to the bathroom, and – with Gladio’s impressive size – already they touched at the knees. They should have taken the conversation into the lounge-slash-bedroom, but it was too late for that and Gladio didn’t trust himself not to turn tension into a form of sexual release. He wanted a distraction from the serious conversation at any costs. Noctis asked:

“You don’t want to be a couple?”

The question hung in the air, as if daring Gladio to walk away. It would be easy to throw Noctis down upon the bed, just as it would be easy to head out into the rain for hours on end, but at some point – regardless of what he did – he would need to answer his prince. Gladio looked to Noctis and saw the sincerity in his expression, but he also saw someone who wanted to move forward and possibly even desired a solid commitment.

“Fine,” muttered Gladio. “We’re a couple.”

Noctis quirked an eyebrow; he folded his arms and stared Gladio down, who could only look away with a huff of breath, and the two of them remained in an awkward silence until one of them was forced to break. It was obvious what Noctis wanted: a real answer. Gladio closed his eyes and breathed deep, before he looked back and glanced his partner over. There was no denying that Noctis was most people’s ideal, just as it was clear there was much to discuss between them, but he knew – at the very least – he wanted Noctis.

“We’re a couple,” promised Gladio.

“Okay, good.” Noctis smiled. “Look, I can get that you’re jealous. I wasn’t blind to how you looked at women when you were single, and I hate how women look at you whenever we go out anywhere. I feel like scratching their eyes out. Just promise you won’t take this out on Prompto? He hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s innocent in this.”

The rain started to let out. The cascading rivers on the windowpane had dwindled into small trickles, and the thunderous noise of rain upon the caravan had slowed to a gentle patter, and – overall – there was the impression that soon the weather would well improve. Gladio looked out onto the roads, where he felt an immense relief that his friends would be okay under improved conditions, and yet there was an intense stab of territorial anger, which boiled at his blood. He turned back to see Noctis looking right at him.

“I promise I won’t touch him,” lied Gladio.

* * *

“You _punched_ him?”

Noctis sat upright in his bed. The silk sheets slid down to reveal a bare chest, one toned with a minimum of scars, and Gladio looked lower to see the hint of a black trail of hair, along with pronounced hip bones and the hint of something more intimate. There was a great deal of light from the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the vast expanse of the bedroom, although the attached balcony was still off-limits for safety reasons.

The bedroom was truly fit for a prince; it was saved by some small miracle during the war, unlike Noct’s apartment or Gladio’s family home, and there was an array of childish toys and photographs that marked the transition from boy to man. Gladio would listen to guards patrol the hallway outside, while the drip of a tap within the _en suite_ was a pleasant reminder that indoor plumbing was a luxury now afforded to them, and he made a mental note to get back out amongst the people and help them however he could. Gladio shrugged at Noctis.

He dropped his towel onto the floor. Noctis looked away with a blush, still flustered by the sight of nudity even after nearly two weeks together as a ‘couple’, and Gladio chuckled to himself on his way over to the bed. He knelt onto the mattress and crawled over as seductively as he could manage, before he dropped next to Noctis above the sheets and let his state of nudity speak volumes about his intent. He licked his lips for good measure.

“I’m talking to you,” said Noct.

Gladio rolled his eyes; he fell onto his back and clasped his hands across his stomach, while he gazed up at the meticulously patterned ceiling with its intricate chandelier, and – as he looked anywhere but at Noct – he caught sight of a wheelchair from the corner of his eyes. It was strange to be in his lover’s childhood room, but stranger still to be emotionally open with him, as that was a level of intimacy far beyond what he felt comfortable. He drew in a deep breath and pursed his lips, before he admitted in a low voice:

“Yeah, I punched him.”

“Why? I asked you not to hurt him,” spat Noctis.

“I know that.” Gladio fisted his hands. “Look, Prompto’s a good kid, and I ain’t going to lie: I regret raising a hand to him. I just know that he fucking _touched_ you and it was driving me mad! I keep thinking about him spreading his legs for you, how he heard you moan and saw you come, and it makes me insane. I just . . . I lashed out. I was wrong.”

“Well, I’m not going to lie either,” said Noct in a cold voice. “It doesn’t exactly get me in the mood when my boyfriend punches my best friend in his face. You’re going to have to make this up to him; if this stands a chance at being real, we have to trust each other.”

“How am I supposed to make it up? Flowers and chocolates?”

“You could start with an apology.”

Noctis rolled over onto his side. Gladio smiled to see a mess of bed-hair; the black locks were spiked in places and flat in others, while the side of his cheek still bore the marks of pillowcase creases, and Gladio felt a swell of affection for the younger man. Noctis rested his head upon his arm, while a small army of pillows propped him up, and his blue eyes held a small crust of sleep in each corner, but somehow it only made him look more beautiful than before. Gladio reached out to brush a lock of hair from his face, as he fought back a smile.

“You know,” muttered Gladio, “I’m not sure I like this ‘couple’ thing.”

He smiled despite himself when Noctis laughed; it was something deep and honest, that made the mattress vibrate with the force, and soon a chaste kiss was pressed to his nose, before Noctis pulled back with a smile in turn. The sheet had fallen with the movement, but Gladio reached down to pull it high about Noctis’ waist. Noctis hummed in contentment, as he looked to his partner with a half-smirk and asked in a teasing voice:

“You mean you don’t like mutual respect and compromise?”

“I’m not the compromising type,” said Gladio.

“Gladio, if we’re going to have a future together, we need to be on the same page.” Noctis looked him directly in the eye. “I can’t keep living in the past; I need to move forward, but I want someone to move forward _with_ , and if that isn’t you then I need to know now. I was naïve going into this, and I don’t want to change you, but I –”

“Look, if you want a compromise, I can compromise. I don’t want to look too far ahead, but I can get you not wanting to live in the past either, so why not just live in the present? We can just take things slow and see where go. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“Okay, but you have to understand I do want marriage. If we can’t agree on that, we’re going to have to break up at some point . . . at some point the future’s going to be the present. Just look at all the paintings of the prophecy; there was a point where we never thought they’d come true, and then there we were face-to-face with Ardyn. Look, even if we just live in the now, I still need you to work things out with Prompto, okay?”

“I’ll apologise to him first thing tomorrow.”

Noctis said nothing in response. He sighed and rolled onto his back, while he gazed up at the ceiling and appeared to take note of the same patterns as Gladio from earlier, and – while the silence overcame them – Gladio realised that the status quo couldn’t last forever. Gladio reached out and took Noctis’ hand; he pulled it into the space between them, where their fingers interlocked and he squeezed affectionately despite his brief fear of Noctis’ reaction. It was an unfounded fear, as Noctis squeezed back and closed his eyes.

“So,” asked Noctis, “what do we have?”

The silence returned, as Gladio listened to the footsteps of the guards outside. There was an irregular pattern, a change of shift that could never be predicted, and he admired them for the increase in security and fore-planning in case of emergency. Gladio ran his thumb in circles. The skin underneath his hand was soft and typical of a royal, something smooth and not callused, and he relished in each and every touch. He said in a gentle voice:

“We have the here and now.”

Noctis smiled.


	7. Chapter Six

Prompto hummed an old tune.

It brought a smile to his lips, as he leaned back upon the bed. The shirt he wore belonged to Iggy, so that he still caught the scent of his partner’s cologne, and it hid his stretchmarks upon his stomach and the tattoo upon his wrist. He knew that Iggy couldn’t see those marks, at least without applying a direct touch, but – even if they weren’t quite there for Ignis to ‘see’ them – the familiar stab of self-doubt lingered. Prompto fell quiet.

He brought his wrist up in the air. The cuff was drawn tight, so much so that he was forced to unbutton it just to see the barcode that he memorised since childhood, and he gnawed nervously upon his lip. It was dark; a few streetlights outsight had been fixed, along with various lights in the Citadel courtyard, and they reflected beautifully from the clear glass like sparkling stars on a black sky, almost a comfort after all their hardship. The shadows made it hard to see, but – as he touched upon it with a soft fingertip – he heaved a shuddering sigh.

“Hmm, is all alright?” Ignis asked.

Prompto rolled over to face Ignis. The older man was dressed in an expensive set of pyjamas, a gift from his uncle some time before the war began, and his closed eyes gave the impression of a peaceful rest. It was an impression betrayed when Ignis moved onto his side; he opened his eyes out of habit and rested his head upon his hand, and smiled just enough that the scars upon his face crinkled with the gesture. Prompto felt his eyes water, as he reached out to take Ignis’ hand and held them clasped between their bodies. He hummed once more.

The bedroom almost felt like home; Prompto’s framed photographs lined the walls, while the iron box with his few rescued treasures sat on display on a far chest of drawers, and his few clothes – those taken or bought upon their travels – lay merged in with Ignis’ clothes. The sheets were cool and crisp against his skin and bare legs, and he enjoyed how Ignis’ fingers played with his and traced patterns upon his palm, even so late at night.

“I was just thinking,” said Prompto.

“Is it about anything with which I could help?”

Prompto blushed and gnawed upon his lip. He thought back to previous crushes, where he would always swoon and chase those that there was no chance of reciprocation, and – as much as he still admired Cindy or Aranea – he knew them to be impossibilities. Ignis drew in a loud inhale of breath, before he let go of Prompto’s hand and instead draped an arm around his waist. He pulled the blond man close to him. They were now chest-to-chest, with Prompto’s arms and hands trapped between them, and he played with Ignis’ lapel.

“I – er – wondered whether . . .”

“There is no need to be shy,” murmured Ignis. “I may not be able to see you, but I can certainly tell whenever you blush. Now then, why not tell me what is on your mind? If not for the sake of conversation, then at least for the chance to clear your thoughts . . . yes?”

“You’re just saying that so I go to sleep.” Prompto smiled and fidgeted with the lapel. “Actually, I – ah – well – I was thinking that we’re kind of both on the same page now, and I guess it’s just nice to both want the same things, but . . . okay, so . . . if we’re officially a couple, plus we’ve been kind of dating for ages now, could we – maybe – do something a little more than just hold hands? I’m not great at this kind of thing, but . . . yeah.”

“I would certainly be more than happy to pursue a physical relationship. If truth be told, I simply held my distance out of respect. I was not blind to your choice of crushes during our travels, and I was rather under the impression you chased after such impossible women in order to avoid your fear of reciprocation. I am – however – amicable to something more.”

“H-Hey, it’s kind of like you read my mind. I was just thinking about that.”

“You were mumbling in your sleep earlier.”

Prompto lifted his head to see the smirk upon Ignis’ lips. There was an otherwise impassive expression, even as Ignis closed his eyes once more and seemed on the verge of sleep, and Prompto buried his head just underneath his partner’s chin. He tried to hide his face and embarrassment, but an arm worked its way underneath him and a hand buried itself into his blond hair, where it massaged soothing circles. Prompto felt his heart race, as it sounded loud in his ears, and he hated to admit that he had awoken from a bad dream.

“It kind of woke me up,” admitted Prompto.

The hummed song had comforted him, even as he feared awakening Ignis. He hadn’t realised that his partner had seemingly been awake the whole time, listening to his murmured fears, and he pulled back just enough to see the older man. There was warmth upon his lips, as they rested so close that noses touched and breath was shared. Ignis continued to stroke at his hair, while Prompto listened to the sound of his quiet breaths. Ignis asked softly:

“Why does intimacy make you so nervous?”

“I don’t know.” Prompto shrugged. “I – I guess it’s a few things. I mean I lost a _lot_ of weight, and – well – I had some minor surgeries and worked out a lot, but . . . I still have these – er – stretchmarks that just won’t go away. It wasn’t that I was bullied or anything at school, but I was just totally ignored and that was almost so much worse. I just get so afraid, like you’ll ‘see’ the marks and just . . . not want me. The same for the marks on my wrist . . .

“I know I’m a citizen of Lucis. I _know_. It’s just this fear lingers in the back of my head, and I keep remembering how I had to keep the mark secret . . . there always this terror that someone might see and hurt me or kill me or exile me. I know you guys don’t see me like I see myself, but it doesn’t make what I see any easier. I just get so afraid, you know?”

“My uncle used to say ‘old fears last long’.” Ignis gave a deep exhale of breath. “I cannot remove these fears for you, although would that I could, but I will say that nothing about you could ever stop my feelings for you. I have grown to love you dearly for _you_.”

“You – we – I –” Prompto swallowed hard. “You love me?”

Ignis laughed. It was a warm and deep sound, which shook the mattress and vibrated through Prompto’s chest, and yet it was kind and filled with emotion. The older man lifted the hand not buried deep in his hair, where he brought it to lift Prompto’s chin, and – with a chaste and all too innocent kiss – pressed their lips together. It lasted perhaps the whole of a second, but it brought a wave of butterflies within Prompto. He blushed and swallowed hard, almost reaching out for another when Ignis pulled away, and smiled absently to himself.

“I love you,” said Ignis.

They remained in silence for a long minute. Prompto counted the seconds by the ticking of the clock and the beating of his heart, while he watched Ignis with a deep intensity, and – knowing he couldn’t be seen in turn – he felt emboldened to truly take in everything that made Ignis ‘Ignis’. He barely noticed as those long fingers traced at his jawbone and the column of his neck, memorising every dip and mole and scar. Ignis whispered:

“Do you still wish for more?”

“Yeah,” admitted Prompto. “Can we go slow, though?”

Ignis chuckled, before his hands came up to touch Prompto’s face. Those soft fingertips traced lightly over every bone and feature, even prompting him to close his eyes and feel around them with a very curious touch, and they pressed firm upon lips and cheeks. Ignis smiled the whole time, whispering words like ‘beautiful’, before he clasped his face in both hands and pulled him ever closer. It brought about a stab of arousal in Prompto, who fidgeted his hips slightly away and raised a leg, desperate to hide his growing length from touch.

“I think we can manage slow,” whispered Ignis.

There was a brief silence. Prompto let out a shuddered breath, unsure what to say to break the quiet between them, only to feel a mouth pressed against him. He murmured into the sudden kiss, eyes wide in surprise and passion, before he laughed and wrapped his arms awkwardly around Ignis’ waist. There was a hint of tongue. Prompto gasped; the kiss deepened, as hands buried themselves into his hair, and Ignis kissed him in earnest. Prompto mewled.

He wanted more. He wanted to grind against Ignis, just as he wanted to kiss him until he would be forced to come up for air, and he groaned all the more – even as Ignis chuckled and rolled them over so that Prompto was astride him – and Prompto looked down into that serene expression. He was afraid to speak, lest he break the spell. He sat straight, legs on either side of two pronounced hips, and rested his hands splayed upon Ignis’ clothed stomach, as he licked at his lips. Ignis reached up to stroke at his cheek, while he smiled.

Prompto swallowed hard, but the door swung wide.

He yelped in fear and jumped to the side of Ignis. A wave of fear and adrenaline rushed through him, as he grabbed at a pillow and placed it before his crotch. The shorts – also borrowed from Ignis – hid him well, but the last thing he wanted was for the new intruder to see his state of arousal. The door slammed shut. The person turned on an overhead light, which caused Prompto to curse and shield his eyes in pain, but Ignis merely sighed and sat upright, even as he piled pillows behind him to make himself more comfortable.

“It is awfully late, Noctis,” said Ignis.

“N-Noct?” Prompto blinked to clear his vision. “He’s – How –?”

“I recognise the footsteps. It is definitely Noct.”

Prompto rubbed at his eyes and squinted. He felt his eyes adjust to the light, where he blinked away the pain and focussed on the pacing figure at the foot of the bed, and – with a long sigh – he finally recognised his best friend. Noctis was still fully dressed; he wore the familiar black shirt and trousers that marked him as part of the Crownsguard, while his boots left marks on the carpet that meant he must have been outside for some time, and he would clench and open his fists with every other step. He kept his head down.

There was a cold draught from how the door slammed, which sent a shiver down Prompto’s spine and momentarily reminded him of his time in captivity, and – without waiting for the air to settle and warm – he instinctively moved closed to Ignis. He sat cross-legged beside his partner, while he pulled the covers of the bed up about his waist and over the pillow. The silence lingered for a good few moments, until Ignis asked:

“Is everything okay, Noct?”

“No,” admitted Noctis. “Gladio’s pregnant.”

“Oh, I guess he told you then, eh?” Prompto smiled and shrugged. “I know it’s not what you planned, with it not being Luna and all, but it’s still pretty great news, right? Ignis offered to take charge of Gladio’s diet, and Cor managed to work it do Gladio’s not on active duty, and Iris even offered to carry on the Amicitia name. It’s all good, right . . . right?”

“No. No, it’s not all good. I’m going to have to tell my father about this, Prompto, and what am I going to say when he asks if Gladio and I will be getting married? Gladio is refusing point blank to have the child in wedlock! It’ll be political chaos.”

“But he _is_ committed to having the child?” Ignis asked.

Noctis took a seat at the foot of the bed. It jostled the mattress and Prompto dipped forward a little with the pressure, and – as he looked to his best friend – he saw Noctis sat with legs spread and arms rested upon his knees. He looked down at the floor with dark eyes, away from the other two men, and Prompto could only bite his lip to fight away the urge to reach out and take a hold of him. Prompto took in a shuddered breath and smiled, mouth open to reassure his friend, only for Noctis to cut him off with a curt:

“Yeah, we’re having the baby.”

Prompto struggled to hold back his smile. He jumped a little where he sat, only to be stilled when a firm hand rested upon his thigh, and he – when he turned to see Ignis shake his head – he blushed and controlled himself. The swell of happiness overtook him, even as he fought the urge to celebrate, and he felt Ignis squeeze a little in warning of any premature display of emotion. Ignis sat straight and looked with closed eyes in Noct’s direction.

“You don’t seem too thrilled,” said Ignis.

“I am and I’m not.” Noctis ran a hand through his hair. “I knew Gladio should have taken the morning-after pill, but we both struggled to find any nearby. The war stole away most emergency supplies of medicine, even emergency contraception, and supplies were hard to replenish with the blockades and transport disruptions. We just . . . took a chance. I’m – I’m not thrilled to be a father so young, but I’m willing to do my duties.”

“You should have said,” added Prompto. “I know a guy that deals with black market medicines; think he started mostly with addicts, but he – er – expanded towards the end of the war and ended up making a small fortune. I ran into him around Vesperpool.”

“This was back in Hammerhead. It would have been too late by the time we got to Vesperpool, but – hey – thanks for the help . . . I’ll remember it next time I go back in time to when this was an issue. Look, I know Gladio went to you guys for help, and I’m grateful for that, but I just don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with any of this.”

“What in particular do you find most difficult?” Ignis asked.

“Honestly? Gladio.” Noctis blushed and looked away. “It didn’t take much to convince him to have the baby, especially when he was on the fence, but it’ll take a lot to convince him to actually _be_ a father and not just an incubator. I – I can’t convince him to marry either, but I’m the last of my line and it’ll save so much trouble to have the baby born in wedlock, because then there won’t be political in-fighting or civil war whenever I die.”

Prompto frowned and looked to Ignis; there was an impassive look of comprehension, as if none of what Noctis said was out of the ordinary, and – for the first time – Prompto truly felt that they were from two different worlds. He looked to Ignis’ stomach, where he half-smiled and thought how easy it would be for a family between them. It was hard not to pity Noctis, even as he looked to him and saw the handsome face and expensive clothes, and he saw well enough how the war and duties of a prince aged him beyond his years. Prompto asked:

“Maybe Gladio will change his mind?”

Noctis grunted and fell back upon the bed. It bounced Prompto where he sat, and he fell against Ignis with an embarrassing lack of balance. The older man chuckled and wrapped an arm around him, where he pulled him close and allowed Prompto to rest his head in the crook of his neck, and the intimate touch helped Prompto to feel more comfortable. He breathed in deep the scent of cologne and luxury soaps. He barely noticed when Noctis muttered:

“I always knew he wasn’t the marrying kind.”

“These are extenuating circumstances,” said Ignis. “It is too late to talk in detail now, but why don’t we make a note to discuss this in full come morning? You’re more than welcome to take the sofa. It would be inadvisable to leave you alone in this state. Gladio has always had something of a fear of commitment, but there is potential for him to change.”

“Yeah, here’s hoping.” Noctis sighed and sat upright. “Sorry about waking you guys up like this. I just . . . I had nowhere else to go. I’m sorry for snapping, too. I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I? I can go back to my room, if I was. I didn’t even think.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” chirped Prompto. “Although next time, I’m locking the door.”

“Yeah, that sounds fair. I’d do the same.”

Noctis smiled at him and stood to his feet. He stretched for a long time, almost graceful and every bit the prince he was born, and he made his way over to the light-switch and turned it off with an abrupt flick. Prompto struggled to adjust his eyes again to the dark, but he could about make out Noctis’ hand upon the door-handle, and he knew – as he sighed with a reluctant acceptance – that Noctis would either return to his rooms or wander alone about the palace. Noctis tapped his hand upon the knob a few times with a nervous rhythm.

“Thanks, guys,” said Noctis. “I really do appreciate this.”

“Anything for you, bro,” promised Prompto.

 


End file.
